


maybe we're from the same star

by Goodnightsammy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Ben solo is screwed, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Past Lives, Poe Dameron and Ben Solo are friends, Professor Ben Solo, Protective Ben Solo, Reincarnation, Rey & Rose Tico Are Best Friends, Rey IS NOT underage, Reylo - Freeform, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Student Rey (Star Wars), Teacher Ben Solo, Teacher-Student Relationship, soulmark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodnightsammy/pseuds/Goodnightsammy
Summary: He hated her from the moment she walked into the room wearing a ridiculous bright yellow frog t-shirt and a grin more blinding than staring into the sun itself. Ben Solo had never wished to shrivel up and die more than in that moment as he struggled not to gawk at a teenage girl—his teenage student. One more hour until lunch, and Ben had, for not just the first time that day, the sinking feeling he wouldn’t make it that far.ORBen Solo thinks he's probably going to hell, or that he's already living in it, when it turns out Rey Johnson, one of the girls in his Civics class, is actually his soulmate.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 269
Kudos: 526





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the quote “I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we’re from the same star.” – Emery Allen
> 
> This story is based on an idea I got after reading Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth, it's a real slow burn where they're soulmates and Ben is her teacher--so definitely give it a read, but that description is probably where the similarities will end.  
> This story is not yet fully written, so I'll try to post a chapter a week. If you're interested, check out my Tumblr (soloredeemed).

Ben sighed and ran a tired hand through the dark locks of hair spilling over into his eyes. He was hunched over the desk in his classroom, clutching a steaming cup of Starbucks in one hand as he stared blankly at the empty desks in front of himself, trying to prepare himself for the utter hell that was the start of the school year. It was only his second-year teaching, but he certainly wasn’t one of the fresh-faced English teachers down the hall spouting off about their newly minted degrees and their, well, _interesting views_ on classroom involvement. A distracted slip of his hand across the desk knocked over his coffee, which caused some of it to splash up onto his suit jacket.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ben mumbled to himself, righting the cup quickly before slinking off the charcoal grey coat. He pushed the sleeves of his white button up to his elbows before slumping back onto the desk with a sigh. He was no longer the hot-shot lawyer that had made six figures working as a partner at S&P, but he sure as hell had enough sense to dress to impress—whether or not the dress code at Jakku High was more of a suggestion than anything. The rules were loose enough that no one batted an eye when Dameron three doors down wore jeans and a leather jacket to teach his World History sections. Whether or not he had known the guy since they were kids, and no matter how many times the man had told Ben to “lighten up,” or that it’s “just Civics man, not a court date,” he still couldn’t afford himself the kind of careless informality that the other teachers seemed to advertise to the entire student body. It is also why he insisted on being addressed as Professor Solo. He had earned that degree, god damnit, and a lot faster than most. Hell, despite having worked in law straight out of college, he was still only 28, a fact his mother had seemed to remind him of adamantly back when she had still insisted he abandon his career for doing—well, literally anything else. In fact, she had even offered him a job at her company, but that wasn’t a step Ben had been ready to take. It had been Dameron who had hooked Ben up with the interview, and he could begrudgingly admit he owed the man, even if he hated his guts half of the time.

In truth, he didn’t _hate_ teaching—he didn’t even hate the kids who actually listened when he droned on about amendments to the Constitution or some other mundane level of government. What Ben hated was that he was expected to be seated at his desk by seven each morning, ready and wide awake enough to not actually murder the kids who played on their phones when they should be well, learning or some shit. At least he taught mostly seniors—even though the lot of them probably paid less attention to him combined than the stray house fly that plagued his room for four long weeks last semester—but there was a sort of mutual understanding that nobody would waste his time more than he was already wasting theirs. Ben’s class was a requirement to graduate, but although some students liked to mumble that he was the devil incarnate outside of his classroom, Ben didn’t actually make it his mission to fail his entire class.

“Solo!” Poe Dameron greeted him cheerily, sliding into the room as if he owned it. As the head of the department, he was technically Ben’s superior, and boy did the man like to rub in that fact all too frequently. “How’s my favorite brooding subordinate doing on this _wonderful_ first day of school?”

“Summer should last longer,” Ben deadpanned in return, “no—you know what? Summer should last the whole damn year.”

“You don’t _mean_ that, Solo. You would miss my beautiful face far too much,” Poe chided back. Ben rolled his eyes half annoyed and trying to hide the niggling sense of fondness he had for the man. Dick? Sure. Asshat? Definitely. Willing to put up with Ben’s shit social skills? One of very, very few. Although Ben had known the man for most of his life, he didn’t actually know much about him. Sure, Poe liked to take out a plane every now and then, or get drinks on the weekends, but he kept his private life just that—private. Ben knew Poe had a soulmate, and that it was a fairly recent development, but only because of the bare branched oak tree that shot out from his wrist and up his forearm. The man didn’t speak of it, and Ben didn’t ask. He didn’t actually have a soulmate of his own. His mother encouraged him to go out more, to meet more people, but in all honestly, although his heart ached for the sort of belonging a soulmate could provide, he wasn’t sure he had one out there waiting for him—wasn’t sure he would deserve them if he did.

“I’ve got first period prep this semester, so I’m planning on snagging a donut from the teacher’s lounge and taking a not so secret nap in the back corner of my class where I keep the bean bags,” Poe continued. Today he was dressed in a pair of black jeans that could pass for slacks if you squinted, and an open buttoned orange polo.

“So that’s why you have those red and blue monstrosities in your room,” Ben mumbled, taking another long, desperate sip from his coffee.

“Well yeah, I wasn’t going to actually let the kids use them!” Poe scoffed. He slapped an open palm onto the desk in amusement, and Ben startled.

“Shit, Dameron, I don’t need to spill coffee on myself twice in one day,” Ben cursed, pushing his seat back.

“I was wondering why the monkey suit was only partially assembled,” Poe acknowledged with a half nod toward the jacket slung over the back of Ben’s chair, “well hopefully your day goes better than it started—first bell is supposed to ring in ten, so kids should start piling in any second.”

“I’m bursting with excitement,” Ben quipped back, before dropping his head to his desk with a groan.

“You’ll survive, Solo,” Poe clapped the other man on his shoulder before turning back out of the room. “We’re still on for lunch, right?” He called behind him from where he stood in the doorway.

“If I make it that long,” Ben sighed. Just then, the first student of the day pushed past Poe and found his way to the desk marked with his name in the back. That was another thing Ben insisted on—assigned seating. Ben glanced warily at Poe who still stood in the entryway. _And so it begins_ , he mouthed at the man. Poe chuckled lightly as he made his way back up the hall.

*

“He’s an asshole. A total dick. I can’t believe I got stuck with him for both AP Gov and Civics,” Rose huffed, scuffing her feet against the tiled floor. Another girl made shifting eyes at her as she entered, before sliding into an available stall.

“You’re the one who insisted on taking both classes even though it’s not even required,” Rey reminded her, sighing heavily. She was busy fixing her chestnut colored hair into three buns in the bathroom mirror. She had missed her alarm this morning, and hadn’t had time to do it before running out the door.

“It’s supposed to prepare you better for the exam,” Rose explained tiredly, turning toward the mirror to tuck a strand of her own short black hair back into place.

“I know, you don’t have to remind me. But you did bring this upon yourself, it’s all I’m saying.” Rey was satisfied with the look, so she swung her green backpack over one shoulder. The straps were wearing at the seams, but Rey couldn’t bring herself to ask Maz for a new one. She quietly reminded herself to talk to Plutt about if she could work an extra shift or two this week at the pawn shop so she’d have enough for a new one. “Besides, I’m sure Mr. Solo isn’t that bad, maybe he’s just having a rough first day.”

“ _Professor_ Solo,” Rose corrected, the bitterness dripping off of her tongue with the words.

“Oh no, never mind, he’s definitely that bad,” Rey snorted. What kind of guy worked at a public high school and still insisted on being called professor?

“At least we have him together for fourth period. I don’t think I could survive another class without you,” Rose admitted, tugging her own backpack up from the floor. Her mother bought her a new one every year. This year, it was a bright floral printed Jansport. “Though I’m not sure we’ll actually get to sit next to each other,” she continued, nudging Rey toward the door in a _we’re going to be late to next hour_ gesture, “Solo insists on assigned seating.”

“For seniors? God he’s an ass,” Rey sighed, shouldering the door open.

“You don’t have to convince me,” Rose nodded, “Anyways, did you hear that Jyn and Cassian are soulmates?”

“Didn’t they graduate last year?” Rey asked as the pair continued down the hall. It was only third hour, so they weren’t headed to the same room, but the girls liked to meet up between classes whenever possible to chat.

“Yeah, apparently they both had a summer internship at Rebel Corp. They never really talked much in school, but one day they ran into each other at work and that was it, they were soulmarked.”

Soulmates weren’t extremely rare—it was commonly believed that everyone had one, even if not everyone found them. In fact, more often than not your soulmate was someone in everyday close proximity. Lots of people liked to say it was as if souls that were meant to be orbited around each other in every lifetime. That even if you never figured out who your soulmate was, they probably crossed paths with you thousands of times before. It’s why greeting new people with handshakes was so common—it wasn’t so much a sign of respect, as the offhanded hope that maybe, just maybe, whoever you were meeting would be the one. Rey didn’t like to put much though into it. It was hard for her to want something like that—something so unconditional, so pure—when all she has had in her life so far was bitter disappointment. Why get her hopes up, right? In reality, she wasn’t a bitter person. She liked to think she was pretty hopeful, considering the circumstances. After being shipped to America to be with her last living relative after being found living on the streets when she was ten, the old man—Ben Kenobi—died before she even had a chance to meet him. From then on, she was traded between foster homes, some much worse than others. But she didn’t hold any of it against the universe, that wasn’t why she was wary of soulmates. Rey was afraid. Afraid that the one person in the world who was supposed to love her wholly and completely, would leave her too.

It didn’t really matter, plenty of people never met their soulmates, and chances were Rey would be among them. Especially if what they said was true and people tended to grow up around each other. Rey was thousands of miles from home. If her soul was calling out to anyone, she didn’t think it had the funds to make an international call.

“What did it look like?” Rey asked as Rose turned to make her way down a different hall.

“What?”

“The mark,” Rey clarified. She tried not to put much thought into soulmates—too ready to be let down by the disappointing reality that she would probably never find her other half—but the marks, the marks were something she couldn’t help but be curious about. Each pair had something different, big or small, sometimes matching, sometimes pieces of a whole. Her mother’s had been a long vine of ivy that twisted down her arm and into her fingers. It was one of Rey’s only memories of her—the fingers intwined with the dark, swirling lines as her hands reached out toward her.

“Stars, I think. Little four-pointed stars. I saw a picture she posted online,” Rose said quickly, before hurrying away at the sound of the warning bell. Rey nodded as she turned on her heel toward Ms. Phasma’s Stats class. Stars sounded nice. Rey looked down at the long expanses of her forearms, left bare by her bright yellow t-shirt. There wasn’t much money left for new clothes, so she liked to pick out the strangest graphic t’s she could find from the Salvation Army down the road. It had started out by accident once—a shirt turned inside out that she had picked up from a 25 cent sale bin—and now the things were a staple of her wardrobe. This one had an open-mouthed frog on it, pink tongue reaching toward another comically drawn fly shaped strangely like a heart, with the words _I find you ribbeting_. Yellow wasn’t her favorite color—she actually preferred a deep green that reminded her of standing inside a forest—but the shade made her skin look tanner than the usual Jakku sun would call for. She wondered vaguely what her mark would look like, if she ever had one.

*

He hated her from the moment she walked into the room wearing a ridiculous bright yellow frog t-shirt and a grin more blinding than staring into the sun itself. Ben Solo had never wished to shrivel up and die more than in that moment as he struggled not to gawk at a teenage girl—his teenage _student_. One more hour until lunch, and Ben had, for not just the first time that day, the sinking feeling he wouldn’t make it that far. She found a seat in the second row, but kept casting looks over at another small, Asian girl near the back of the class. He recognized her from his first hour, but couldn’t recall her name. If it wasn’t clear from how the girls entered together, chatting animatedly to each other—Yellow Shirt liked to use her hands to speak—it was evident from her longing gaze that the two were friends, and she would much rather be seated in the back than where the seating chart dictated. Ben scowled down at his desk and tried to ignore the low urge in his stomach to grant her that one, simple wish, more confused at where the feeling was coming from than anything else.

He strained his too-large ears to listen to what the girls were whispering to each other harshly when he caught the words “him” and something that sounded like “oh my god.” By the red that had appeared on the back of Yellow Shirt’s neck at the words, it was clear that a boy was being discussed. Something akin to jealousy twisted in his stomach and wasn’t _that_ just confusing.

Ben glanced up at the clock on the wall and shot up from his seat when he realized there was a good five minutes before he was actually expected to address the students milling slowly into the room. He pushed out the door in a hurry before barging into Dameron’s classroom.

“Mayday,” Ben huffed, stalking toward Poe on the far side of the room and ignoring the interested looks from his half-empty class.

“Shit man, it isn’t even lunch time yet,” Poe threw back, his thick, dark brow scrunched down low over his eyes.

“I might need you to kill me,” Ben sighed, voice low enough to go unheard by the students looking on. He dragged a tired hand through his dark locks of hair before slumping a shoulder against the white brick wall.

“Is this an immediate need, or can it wait until I’ve finished telling the Freshmen about America in the 1600s?” Poe asked, throwing his gaze over toward the pimple-faced teens.

“It’s pretty urgent—wait, you’re teaching today, not just handing out syllabuses? That is a level of cruel that I can’t even manage, Dameron,” Ben broke off distractedly, “either way, I think that if you don’t kill me, my next hour will.”

“Rough group?” Poe wondered with a tilt to his head. His dark eyes shone with honest interest, none of the usual teasing glint that was more than often enough evident against his irises.

“I think I’m going straight to Hell,” Ben said instead of an answer. He scowled across the room at a poster that declared ‘History is a Mystery’ with what Ben could only assume was Sherlock Holmes, eye pressed up against a magnifying glass.

Poe nodded knowingly, “girl or guy?”

Ben sputtered.

“Don’t tell me that I’m wrong here, there’s only one reason you’d be so flustered over a class that doesn’t involve one or all of the students being little shits, and that’s if,” Poe glanced suspiciously over to his class before lowering his voice a comical amount to whisper harshly, “if one of them were _hot.”_

“I’m going to Hell, aren’t I?” Ben groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall back against the brick wall. He wondered vaguely if it were possible to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Nah man, we’ve all thought it at least once,” Dameron smiled, clapping Ben on the shoulder with one of his wide, tan palms. “Besides, man, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way girls go out of their way to bump into you in the halls. Each one of them is hoping that maybe, just maybe—” Dameron didn’t finish his statement, but the implication was clear. They wanted to _be_ with him, _be meant_ for him. With his arms bare, it was easy for Ben to study the grasping branches streaking up Dameron’s forearm and wonder just exactly why the man had never revealed such an important part of his life. Clearly soulmates in general weren’t a taboo for the man.

“No, I don’t think that’s true. It really isn’t normal,” Ben huffed, but despite his annoyance with Dameron’s words, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit relieved.

“Normal or not, man, I’ve got some brats to teach. Just don’t—I don’t know, hump your desk or anything, and I’m sure you’ll be A-Okay,” Poe declared.

Ben only nodded numbly to himself before shuffling back down the hall.

He gritted his teeth the entire period, a tightness in his jaw he was all too familiar with. He hated her and her little freckled nose and her stupid three bun hairdo and her dumb mossy eyes. Her name was Rey, he knew that now after having taken attendance, and didn’t that just fit? Wasn’t she just a freaking ray of sunshine? He snapped at at least one student who didn’t deserve it, and the kids seemed to cower a little more than usual under his overbearing presence. About half-way through the class he had given up, directed the monsters to refer to their syllabus, and had finally let his head rest against the cool surface of his desk. As long as he could just keep it together for—he glanced up at the clock before plopping his head back down—for another twenty three minutes, he could keep it together for the rest of the year. Or maybe he should just quit. That seemed like a viable option.

*

Rey was in the middle of telling Rose about something Ms. Phasma had said last period when she entered _Professor_ Solo’s class, and became suddenly, acutely aware that her friend had left out some important details during her Solo complaint session. Some very important details. Mainly that the man was built like a truck, or a freaking brick wall, or the Empire fucking State building. Even curled over himself in his chair, clearly trying to will the day away, it was obvious. His white button down stretched across the man’s chest like it was struggling to contain him, and Rey had to advert her gaze when the man flitted his whiskey brown eyes up at her, warm as her morning cup of tea and as sweet as the honey she put in it. That was probably the second thing Rose failed to mention—the fact that the man was devastatingly attractive with his too big nose and plush pink mouth and moles dotting his face like constellations. His hair looked soft; Rey would bet money that his hair was soft; Rey would do anything if it meant that she could card her hands through his dark waves and— _Professor Solo_ was her teacher.

Rey turned back in her seat, which was in the second row near the middle, to stare back longingly at Rose who was sat near the back of the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She mouthed, voice barely a whisper as it broke past her lips.

“Tell you what?” Rose shot back, a single dark, confused brow ticked upward with the question.

“That he’s well—him,” Rey blushed, a warm heat pooling low in her stomach.

“Oh my God, Rey. Seriously?” Rose hissed. Just then, Professor Solo practically rushed out of the room. Both girls turned to watch him go. “You have a crush on the _teacher?”_

“I didn’t say that!” Rey protested, silently hoping that whatever had caused the man to run out of the room had nothing to do with the things she had said about him. She prayed silently to whomever might be listening that the man hadn’t heard.

Rose glared suspiciously back at her.

“I _didn’t_ say that,” Rey repeated, but she couldn’t even muster up the gusto to convince herself of that fact.

“Sure,” Rose deadpanned, and a knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Professor Solo had returned with the final bell, and whatever butterflies had churned her stomach only moments before seemed to flee at the realization that he was as crap of a teacher as Rose had described. Well, not _crap_ per say. From what she had heard about him, his classes could actually be entertaining from time to time. Except today, he spent the majority of the hour at the front of the class under a storm cloud of gloom, his dark eyes glaring across the room.

The man practically looked like he was going to punch through a wall at any moment, that or eat the students. He had snapped at Kaydel, a perfectly nice girl who had been in her Chemistry class sophomore year, when she had asked a simple question about late assignments. The three other kids who had their hands up when it happened had immediately and decisively lowered them.

He seemed to deflate after that, choosing instead to slump at his desk while Rey and the others flipped through the packet that had been passed out at the beginning of the hour. Rey grimaced a little at the strict grading policy, but everything else seemed pretty standard. After a few minutes of half-hearted glances over the pages, she turned her attention to the man at the front of the room. He was scary, sure, she had just seen how his anger could bubble up over the surface into something viscous and bordering on cruel. But he also looked—tired. His cheeks were almost grey against his pale skin, and light purple bruises seemed to blossom under his eyes. He looked—sad, lonely. Rey almost felt bad for him—almost. She snuck a peak at where Kaydel still sniffled on the far right side of the room. Her desk was set up next to a long set of bookshelves lined with textbooks, and the girl seemed to be playing with the frayed corner of one of them, her own syllabus abandoned. There were only a few minutes left in class, and before lunch for that matter, and the kids had begun shifting restlessly in their seats.

Rey peaked down at her phone when she felt a light buzz against her thigh.

**Rose:** See what I mean?

Rey turned to look at the girl who had her own eyes set on Kaydel in concern.

Rey sighed and tapped away at her screen as discreetly as she could manage.

**Rey:** I’m beginning to.

“Miss Johnson.”

Rey looked up at the sound of Professor Solo’s voice like a book snapping shut. He sat at the front of the room, arm outstretched and hand open, eyes hard as they stared down at her. She gulped.

“Yes, Professor Solo?” Her voice squeaked. Rey wasn’t usually one to cower, but something about the blackness of his eyes made her want to disappear.

“Since it seems reasonable to assume you have reached the section of the syllabus that distinctly explains the strict no cell phone policy, it only seems reasonable that I also enforce said policy. Bring the phone to me and you can have it back at the end of the day,” he explained, each one clipped and heavy, the annoyance clear in his tone.

Rey stood slowly, her legs dragging as she approached the front of the room. She placed her phone in his open palm and her fingers brushed against him. It was like static electricity at first—a startling shock that spread up her arm in a dull tingle—before turning into something stronger. A wave of warmth wound around her forearm and white flashed against her irises. The sound seemed to suck out of the room.

_Oh no, oh no. God no._

When her vision cleared once more, he was looking at her with a similar level of panic. His dark eyes burned with something wild, and his jaw hung slack. When she glanced back down at her arm, she realized two things. The first is that despite her surprise, she never once stopped touching him. Her hand was still resting over his. His fingertips were still trailing against the meat of her palm. The second thing she noticed was the mark that slashed light from above his eye, looking like a scar, before turning harsher where it slipped under the neck of his collar, dark and angry. She followed the line down to where it pushed out from underneath his rolled-up sleeves, dissipating into his fingertips and picking up in her own. The line continued to coil up her forearm, to where it turned into the stem of a flower. Daisy petals pooled at her wrist as if they had fallen from the flower that now plastered itself against her bicep, as a whole bouquet of wildflowers sprouted up and up into her collarbone.

Then, she did the only logical thing she could think of—she ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this chapter until Monday, but i'm taking the GRE on Monday and this was already written, so I thought I would give it to you early! Thank you so much for the wonderful comments! Believe me, I'm looking forward to this one just as much as you guys are :)

Ben isn’t sure what stroke of idiocy compelled him to call her up to the front of the class—half of the students were on their phones, not just her, but he had decided to single her out anyways. Maybe it was because her very presence set him ablaze—with anger, and with something else he didn’t want to put words to. Maybe it was because he wanted to see the color of her irises up close—to see the flecks of green that danced like seagrass against her hazel eyes. Maybe it was because he wanted to know what she smelled like, sweet like honeysuckle and something close to ozone. _Sunshine,_ his brain had tiredly supplied. Maybe it was because he just wanted her to look at him, really look at him for one in his life before he could forget the silly way his stomach flipped over at the sight of her altogether. That in spite of all the things he would never let himself have, her included, Ben would still get to keep one single moment of Rey looking at him tucked into the deepest, darkest corner of his heart. Whatever stupid, selfish, inconsequential reason had pushed him to call her name had abandoned him the second her small hand became engulfed by his own. Rey’s touch had set his skin on fire. It was a searing heat that scorched through his veins, engulfing his entire right half with it as it climbed and climbed and climbed. Marks that were outside of the arm were extremely rare, but with the way the pale flesh around his eye throbbed, he knew there would be no way to hide his mark.

Ben was in Hell, there was no doubting it now, and she was his sweet, sweet torture. He had watched as the mark had sprouted up from where her fingertips met his skin, beautiful arching lines of wildflowers clawing at her collar bone, just peeking out from beneath that horrible yellow of her shirt. It was then, doe-eyed and blushing, like she had been when she spoke of that _boy_ in the back of his class, that he let himself think the word in relation to her for the first time. _Beautiful,_ she was beautiful. She was _his._ Ben had watched the way her eyes shifted in recognition. How her lips parted in a breathy sort of horror. Rey had to be stuck with him for the rest of her life—him and his stupidly large ears and too long face. Him and his chilled heart and sullen gaze. Him and the past he didn’t talk about, like Poe’s secret soulmate. Ben tried to shake the thoughts from his head—not because they were untrue, but because they failed to mention the single, damning fact that she was a student—a child—and no matter what exceptions the government made for soulmates of similar _situations_ , it could never happen. He was at least a decade older than her. A _decade._ He could already hear his father’s voice, a throaty chuckle in the back of his mind, accusing Ben of robbing the cradle. His traitorous mind took the opportunity to whisper something sick and tempting. _How old had his mother been when the pair of them had met? Surely not much older than…_

Ben was in the middle of that train of thought—one almost certainly doomed to wreck at any moment—when he became acutely aware of the loss of contact. It hurt, mildly, when her fingers left his own. Kind of like tearing off a band-aid. Before he could protest, before he could act on the urge to wrap his too-big hand around her wrist and force her to stay, she was already out the door. She had run from him. Whatever confirmation Ben might have needed for all of his worst fears to come true—not just that he didn’t have a soul mate, but that they wouldn’t _want_ him, that he was too much of a monstrosity to ever be loved—the thud of the door slamming behind her was certainly enough to hammer in the point. His stomach dropped as the sound echoed through the room.

Her friend, Rose he knew now, had hurriedly gathered her things and then Rey’s, before stumbling out the door after her. The girl didn’t look at him once, eyes set straight ahead as she had scrambled past him. Ben let her go without a word.

The thing about soulmates is it’s an emotional reaction, as well as biological. Not only are the two people made for each other—with complimentary immune systems, blood types, even pheromones—but once they touch for the first time, it’s as if the world bursts into color. Emotions are heightened, protection instincts kick in. Some people have even gone so far to suggest that some soulmates could _possibly_ read each other’s minds or feel each other’s pains. It had never been proven by science, but there’s a lot of stories about soulmates that have never been proven. Ben knew this, obviously. Soulmate law had actually been a pretty involved course during his time in school, as the implications for the bond could lead someone to do something perhaps not of their own volition. The thoughts washed over him, and Ben wondered vaguely if his dread was his own, or hers. If the look on Rey’s face had merely been a reflection of his own feelings, or of hers onto him. Ben thought he could still feel her now, thrumming under the surface of his skin. He didn’t know how he felt about that fact—that she would be ever present even as she tried to run away. Could she feel him too?

“Fuck!” Ben accented the shout with a slam of his closed fist against the top of his desk. In spite of what people might think of him, Ben hadn’t let his anger consume him like this in a very long time. It boiled up in his veins much like the night that had led him not to go home for seven years. It was another thing he attributed to the newly formed bond. Years of anger management classes flew out the window, and he clenched his jaw. When Ben looked up again, the class was silently staring wide-eyed at him. He dropped his head to the desk with a groan. Ben Solo was royally screwed.

When the bell rang a few moments later, a shrill sound that grated at Ben’s nerves, not a single kid stood up from their seats.

“What are you staring at? Don’t you have lunches to eat?” He growled angrily, fury bubbling low in his stomach. “Go!” The barked word tasted like acid on the back of his tongue, bitter with the sting of rejection and sour with shame.

A few of his students shifted in their seats, others shot uncertain glances at their neighbors, but none made a move toward the door.

One girl, the blonde he had been rough to earlier, raised a shaky hand.

“What?” He snapped, glaring at the girl with all the menace he could muster.

“Aren’t you going to go after her?” She breathed. The words waivered as she spoke.

Ben let his eyes shift across the room to take in the expectant gazes of the other students, all who seemed to be wondering the exact same thing. The rage that had filled him moments before deflated like a balloon. He sagged back in his chair, and for the first time glanced down at the new line that twisted up his arm. The line that had flowed into Rey’s through his fingertips. He traced at it slowly with his thumb, dragging the digit across his flesh, and he let himself imagine that it were her touch anchoring him to the earth. Then, shakily, he let his fingers graze the skin around his eye and down his face. He couldn’t see it, wasn’t sure he wanted to see it, to confirm that this girl, this happy, smiling girl who carried the galaxy on her cheeks and a flower garden against the wide expanse of her tan flesh, had scarred him for life. That she had revealed his true nature with the spark of her touch. Even if she wasn’t a student, even if she wasn’t a decade younger than him, how could he subject a girl like that to a lifetime with himself? How could she even want that? Ben thought about the way she had ran, fled from him, and realized with a dark sort of clarity that she _didn’t_ want that.

“Should I?” He sighed, less a question and more a dejected revelation. Even if they were to never speak again, soulmates were something that had to be registered. If she deemed it fit to live a life devoid of him, his name would still have to be listed under hers on her government ID. He clenched his jaw in determination. Best to get it over with, and then the both of them could continue on with their lives. He wouldn’t beg her, wouldn’t even try to convince Rey to give it a shot. No, it could never happen. _They_ could never happen. And he would make sure of it. He did is best to ignore the way the idea of pushing her away made his insides ache. It was inconsequential.

The blonde girl nodded slightly at him.

Ben pulled himself up out of his chair.

*

The horror of what Rey had just done had followed her out the door, hanging onto her heels like a shadow as she ran. She had done the thing she had feared the most. Rey had abandoned her soul mate before they could have the chance to abandon her in return. She thought of the way Professor Solo had looked at her, the slash through his whiskey colored eye, and how her fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and touch it. The mark didn’t mar his features, it didn’t make him unhandsome, if anything, the fact that it was there as a sign that he was hers sent a warm heat deep into her belly. She _wanted_ him, and yet she ran anyways. Rey crashed into the first-floor bathroom and bent herself down over one of the white sinks to heave with ragged sobs. Rose found her a few moments later and placed a single hand on the back of her shoulder.

“What does it look like?” The girl asked, voice quiet. Rose wasn’t the quiet type. She was the type to huff, yell, stomp her feet against the ground or dig in her heels. So the way her words seemed to curl in on themselves and hide away behind her teeth only served to prove how ridiculous it all was, how absolutely hopeless.

Rey let out a bitter chuckle at the similarities between this conversation and the one they had had not two hours earlier. Back when her life still made sense. Back when it didn’t feel like the world was collapsing around her. She silently clawed at her collar to reveal the light linework of wildflowers that climbed up from her arm toward her neck.

“Rey, it’s beautiful,” Rose whispered, and it was, but the words only encouraged more salty tears to slide down her cheeks. It was beautiful, and it was hopeless. Rey’s face was splotchy and red. Her hair was a mess. A child stared back from her reflection.

“A man like him could never want me, Rose.” It was all she could manage to say, but she meant so, so much more. She wanted to scream. To tear up the stupid syllabus that Rose had stuffed into the water bottle pocket of her backpack. To punch the glass in front of her until it shattered. But she did none of those things. Rey hated feeling as helpless as she did in that moment. It reminded her too much of the days spent in an empty house, waiting for parents that would never return, too afraid to move. She had learned how to survive then. Rey would survive now too.

“He’s probably in shock,” Rose offered. The girl removed her hand from Rey and let both their bags fall to the floor with a solid thud.

“Did you see what happened to his face?” Rey breathed, the question barely a puff of air as it fell from between her lips. She wondered if a man like that had many scars, or if hers would be the only one that marked him. Rey wasn’t sure which answer she liked better. Probably neither. Probably both.

“Marks like that are extremely rare—” Rose began, but Rey cut her off.

“He’ll hate me for it. No one will ever look at him the same again,” Rey sobbed. He was a live wire that she wanted to wrap her hands around. She wanted to let him burn her. She wanted to let him course through her veins, to destroy her. Rey had spent too many years trying not to need anyone, and here this man was—this huge, broad, mess of a man—able to reduce her to tears in a matter of moments. She hated him for it. She hated herself for it.

“How could he hate you, Rey? It wasn’t your fault. Besides, they say people with marks outside the arm…” Rose trailed off, not quite finishing the thought. Rey knew, though, knew the words that went unfinished. She wanted to hear them anyways.

“What do they say?” Rey sniffled. She made eye contact with her friend in the mirror.

“Well, they say the bigger the mark, the more lives you’ve lived together. I know it’s silly, but.”

It was silly. Just a story that children told each other on the playground. But part of Rey wanted it to be true. Part of Rey wanted to know that he had loved her in a hundred different lifetimes, that he had found her over and over again, that he, unlike everyone else, hadn’t left her alone in the universe. There was hope in that. There was hope in the fact that maybe, just maybe, even though she couldn’t have him in this lifetime, he would be hers in the next. She took in a deep, shaky breath. _Why couldn’t things be different? Why couldn’t he just be mine?_ Rey had seen the horror on his face. Even if she went back to him now—he wouldn’t want her.

“Thanks Rose,” Rey sighed, wiping away some of her tears. She had to be strong. She couldn’t fall a part over this. Of all the things she faced, this would not be the thing to break her. “I think I’m going to call Maz—maybe she’ll come and pick me up early.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him first?” Rose asked quietly.

Rey merely shook her head before picking up her bag from the floor, setting her shoulders back and her chin high, and heading down to the main office.

*

When Ben finally stumbled down the hallway, there was only a few remaining students loitering at the lockers on their way to lunch. When he turned the corner, he practically ran into the small Asian girl, noticeably one backpack lighter.

“Is she—” Ben started, unsure of just how he would finish the question. _Is she ok?_ _Is she still here? Is she upset?_

“I’m sorry,” Rose mumbled, and for all of the determination he had seen in the girl when she had hurried out after Rey, now her nose was pointed to the ground and she wouldn’t meet his eyes, “she already left. She called her foster mom to come pick her up.”

_Foster mom._ Ben’s stomach clenched at the words.

“Oh, I—Thank you for letting me know,” he said instead, with all the poise he could muster. Rose nodded, ready to move past him when Ben stopped her with a look. “Rose?”

“Yes, Professor Solo?”

Anger was easy. It drowned out everything else. It consumed all other feelings, all other pains. Maybe that’s why Ben was always angry. It was easier than being hurt, easier than feeling alone. He could scream at the world until his throat went raw, throw his fist through drywall just to feel it crumble beneath his knuckles, or break the mirror in his bathroom just to avoid looking himself in the eyes. Hating Rey would be easier, too. Ben knew this, and yet a small, selfish part of himself couldn’t stand the idea of her looking up at him like he were a monster, like he had stolen the one thing that could ever truly be her own. Maybe that’s why Ben stopped Rose in the hall. Maybe that’s why he asked her. He needed to know.

“Did she say anything? Anything else?” His voice was quiet and unsure. He tucked the insecurity he felt in the moment away into that part of himself he never touched.

“Just—whatever you do Professor Solo, please don’t hate her for it, she couldn’t bear it,” the girl told him, not unkindly, before brushing past him toward the cafeteria.

Ben wondered once again whether what they said about emotions were true, if Rey had seen what was in his heart, had felt it. The guilt of the idea climbed up at the back of his throat.

_Please don’t hate her._

Wasn’t that exactly what he was planning to do? Hate her until the rest of it faded away. Hate her until he didn’t have to want her anymore. A treacherous part of his brain pooled with desire—not just to have this girl, but to love her. He stamped down the thought with all the willpower he could muster. Ben turned and caught his reflection in the window. The noise he made at the sight of his face bordered on inhuman.

“Well look at that, I’m a monster after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angst. It's okay guys, it's a soulmate story. It'll get better :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story so far! This is probably going to be much longer than my previous works, and because I'm trying to make longer chapters each update, I'm going to tend to be a little later with them than I usually am. Don't worry though, I still aim to publish at least a chapter a week, (maybe sooner if I'm feeling speedy). Thank you all so much for your comments, I really love reading them!

When Rey slid into the passenger side of Maz’s beat up Toyota Corolla, silver paint curling on the doors and flecks of rust eating away at the wheel wells, Maz didn’t say anything. She took one look at Rey with those big old eyes of hers and hummed before throwing the car in drive. Maz had always been good to Rey like that. When she had been sent over to the states when she was nearly nine, Rey was bounced around from a few different homes before landing in Maz’s. The woman didn’t have enough money to get Rey the same nice things that the other kids at school always had, but she cared more than the rest of the other foster families, and Rey couldn’t begrudge Maz for not getting her a new backpack every year. Maz never asked questions she didn’t need to know the answer to, she never pried, she was always there, a constant, warm presence. Rey knew she would talk about it eventually, that she had to, but Maz wouldn’t push her into it, and for that Rey was ever thankful.

“You know,” the woman mused, her old voice firm despite her age, “I’ve lived long enough to see the same eyes in different people.” She was a small woman, skin tanned dark and worn with time, with large round glasses that would sometimes slide down to the end of her small nose. She would often say things that didn’t quite make sense, but always seemed to be the right thing to say.

“You mean like reincarnation?” Rey asked, and if the fingers of her right hand grazed against the dark mark on her left arm, she didn’t notice, “like they say about—” Rey couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bear to say the word out loud.

“Indeed child.”

The Toyota sputtered as the pair drove in silence for a few moments. Rey sat, body turned toward the window to stare at the sandy lawns and beige houses that blurred as they drove past. The desert of Jakku was such a colorless place—Rey longed for something brighter. Eventually, she finally found the courage to speak.

“Have you seen mine before?” The question felt silly, juvenile as it turned over on her tongue. And here Rey thought she had wanted to prove she wasn’t a child, to _him,_ to herself. Even so, the curiosity of it all tickled at the back of her mind.

“Mmm, you, my child, I would recognize your eyes anywhere.” It wasn’t much of an answer, not really, but it held a sort of weight that made Rey go hollow inside, as if she was getting too close to something she shouldn’t touch. It reminded her of how the air pressure changed before a storm, dark clouds looming on the horizon. She didn’t dare push any further—even if she enjoyed watching the lightning from her window, or standing out in the rain.

*

“What the _fuck_ happened to you, Solo?” Dameron gaped, mouth hanging open.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that if you keep that up, you’ll catch flies?” Ben grunted, sliding into the chair that Poe had set up on the other side of his desk. The pair tended to eat their lunch in the privacy of either man’s classroom, and today, Ben was ever the more grateful for the added discretion.

“Your mom did, once… I think,” he admitted slowly before shaking his head, “But woah man, I was worried about you humping your desk in frustration, but no, you go and get hitched during fourth period?” Poe was wide eyed and practically buzzing. Ben wondered for a moment how the man was still in his chair.

“I’m not _hitched,”_ Ben growled, drawing out the word like a threat, and he watched as Poe’s face softened in slight sympathy, “besides, she’s a student. It could never happen.”

“It could,” Poe nudged with a shrug of his shoulders.

“No, it couldn’t. Because even if she wasn’t, she’s still the freaking embodiment of sunshine itself and I’m—” Ben gestured wildly at himself with two big, waiving palms, “I’m me.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Poe questioned, his dark brow pulled low over his eyes.

“What—that she’s sunshine? Because even her name is Rey and—”

“No. That you can’t be with her cause you’re… you,” Poe corrected, cutting the man off.

“I don’t know if you’ve met me, Dameron. I’m not the easiest person to deal with,” Ben huffed, slouching back in the small seat.

“Believe me, I’m well aware. What I don’t know is what that has to do with your _soulmate._ You know, the person literally made for you? The other half of your being? The light of your life?” Then, after a beat, “your _ray of sunshine?”_

“Eat a dick, Dameron,” Ben spat back, pulling the sandwich he had made himself that morning out of his sleek, black lunch bag.

“Gladly, but you see my point,” Poe pushed back. And _huh,_ well that was a piece of information Ben had not been aware of. Poe had always flirted wildly with the girls back in grade school. He had always assumed— “Dude, I can literally see the cogs turning in your head. I’m an equal opportunity lay. I’m surprised you never knew that. I probably tried to talk the pants off of you once or twice but well—as we established earlier, getting you to notice advances is like trying to woo a brick wall.” There was a question there, one Ben could ask but didn’t quite know how. _Is your soulmate a guy? Is that why you don’t talk about it?_ But even that didn’t seem to make sense, because clearly Dameron had no problem admitting he was Bi. Ben stared down at the ham sandwich in his hands, unable to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Yes, I see your point,” Ben sighed, “and under other circumstances, maybe I would even try to make it work—maybe I would try to be better, for her. But she’s my student, for one. Hell, Dameron, I don’t even know how old she is. Chances are she’s seventeen. She’s a child. A child with her entire life ahead of her, and I’m some dirtbag Civics teacher that she’s practically chained to. I can’t do that to her, I won’t. I’d rather hate her and have that be it.” He took a bite from his sandwich and chewed slowly, but it tasted like ash on the back of his tongue.

“You’re not a dirtbag, Ben. An asshole? Sure. An idiot? Definitely,” Ben narrowed his eyes at Poe’s words, “but that’s not the point. The point is, you want _what’s best for her._ Which, unfortunately, you seem to think _isn’t you_ , but you can’t be nearly as bad as you say if you’re trying to take care of her like that.”

“I’m not trying to take care of her,” Ben protested. Poe quirked a sly smile, “okay so maybe I am,” Ben admitted, “but that doesn’t change anything.”

“It doesn’t change anything…yet,” Poe teased.

Ben only frowned in return.

*

When Rey got a call from Plutt a couple hours later asking if she could pick up a shift after Greedo had called in sick, she figured she not only needed the money, but it would help her get her mind off of things. The pawn shop Plutt ran was only a five-minute walk from her house. The man was a slimy creep most of the time, always looking in need of a shower, but he paid well enough for the understanding that Rey wouldn’t talk about what happened in the back room, and he let her tinker with some of the cars in the junk yard out back whenever they weren’t busy. Maz hated that Rey spent so much time at the place, but jobs looked good on a resume, and despite what had happened with Professor Solo, she still planned on going to college.

Rey shook the thought of the man from her mind, trying to will away the image of his cascading hair and soft eyes. Most everything about him was hard—the set of his shoulders, the line of his jaw, the crook of his nose, the way his voice could silence a room with a single word—but his hair, his lips, the loneliness that rippled under the surface of his warm whiskey gaze, all seemed to contradict the image he tried so hard to produce.

Before her shifts, Rey always liked to stop by the convenience store next door. The man who worked behind the counter most nights was a nice guy who had graduated just a couple years before her, and was working the joint between college classes. At one point, Rey had itched to touch his palm to see if they might be meant for each other, a little weak in the knees after her first encounter with his dark skin and kind eyes. All of that had fallen away when she had seen the edges of his own mark peeking out from underneath the leather jacket he wore most days. The two of them were friends now, but it was a kind of friendship that started out slow. She would stop by to say hi and get a cheap Coke from the fountain in the back that she happily slurped on throughout her shift, and he would joke with her as she checked out at the counter. Sometimes, if Rey was very lucky, he would even sneak her a bag of chips. Rey had never hung out with the man outside of the store, but every now and then they would message each other memes, or Finn would complain adorably about his soulmate that he almost exclusively referred to as Hubby over text. In person, he was a little bit shyer about it, but even his evasion held a similar level of affection. The pair of them weren’t married, and Rey wasn’t sure why, but it never felt like a good time to ask.

Today when Rey walked into the store, the little bell jingling overhead, Finn looked up a little surprised.

“You don’t work on Mondays,” he said slowly, the question clear in the edge of his voice.

“I left school early for—personal reasons,” Rey told him, concealing the lie by tugging her sleeves a little farther over her wrists and keeping her hand from view, “and Plutt needed a replacement so here I am.” Rey accented the comment with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She wanted to keep her mark a secret, just a little longer, even from her friend. Rey knew as soon as she stepped back in her school, there would be no escaping the truth.

“Well, a little extra cash never hurt,” Finn admitted, already typing in her fountain drink into the register before she had even filled it up.

“Hey—I know we’ve never really hung out before or anything, but my um—my guy is having a barbeque at our place on Saturday. I know you don’t usually work Saturdays, either, that’s why I’m asking,” Finn stumbled over his sentences, as if he wasn’t quite sure she’d agree to come, “anyways, he’s inviting all of his friends over. It isn’t really a great scene for my college crowd, but if you wanted to go…”

“That sounds great,” Rey said with a smile, sliding a dollar across the counter to him and taking a long sip from her straw, “text me the address.”

He nodded fervently in response, taking the dollar and crumpling the receipt, “of course! Have a good shift!”

She walked out, the bell jingling behind her as she went.

Plutt’s shop was a small, dingy thing. Metal bars protected the windows, and a burnt-out neon sign hung over the door that used to read “Plutt’s Pawn,” but now only buzzed a lazy “Lut Awn.” There was one main, u-shaped counter made of glass cases that stretched around the front room. Most of them were filled with jewelry or gold and silver coins, but there were also some other little treasures of some sort of value. Rey’s favorite piece was a large oil painting that hung on the wall near the back of the place. It was a sea of pine trees so green they were almost black as they cast long moonlit shadows over a blue hued snowbank. The painting had always fascinated her. It just always seemed out of place amongst the corkboard walls and humming fluorescents. There was something oddly familiar about it too—as if she might have seen it before, only with two shadowed figures looming against the dark. A part of her had even imagined saving up her own money to buy it off the wall someday, but the thought had quickly been abandoned when she had seen the four-digit price tag. Instead, she studied it from a distance on days like Monday, when barely anyone stumbled there way inside.

As to be expected, only a few lowlifes wandered in during her shift, and they headed straight to the back room, eyes rimmed red. Rey did her best to ignore their presence, instead reading through some of the papers that had been handed out during her classes that she had brought along with her. She got off work a couple uneventful hours later, and although she was tired to the bone, Rey slept restlessly that night. In her dreams she couldn’t shake away the image of Professor Solo’s horrified eyes.

*

When Rey showed up at school on Tuesday, word of her and Professor Solo’s incident had spread like wildfire. She did her best to keep her head down on the bus, and to not look anyone in the eyes, but she could still hear their whispers from across the aisles. Rey met Rose at her locker, before first hour, and the other girl silently clutched her hand in Rey’s own.

“It’s going to be alright,” Rose promised quietly, squeezing her hand lightly, and Rey shot the girl a weak smile, even if she didn’t believe it for a second. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, hoping to catch a glance of her mark. Despite the late summer heat, Rey had pulled on a long-sleeved shirt that morning, in hopes that it would minimize the ogling. It seemed to have little effect.

Rey wasn’t surprised that when she sat down at her desk for Physics there was a short knock at the door. Mr. Wexley got up and talked in hush whispers with the woman in the doorway that she didn’t recognize. Eventually, his eyes turned to her.

“Miss Johnson?” Rey was already gathering her stuff at her desk. “Ms. Calrissian here would like a word.”

When Rey got to the doorway, the woman, young with warm brow skin and dark eyes, smiled kindly at her.

“You can call me Jannah, honey. I thought we could go down to my office for a chat?” She posed it as a question, but Rey didn’t figure she had much of a choice in the matter. She only nodded in return.

As the pair walked down the hall, Jannah took the time to explain a bit further, “I’m the school’s counselor. I don’t really do any of the guidance work—my role is more specific. If a student is having a hard home life, or if something traumatic happens, I’m who they can come talk to. In your case Rey—”

“In my case, it’s Professor Solo,” Rey mumbled as Jannah held open the door to a small office near the front of the school.

“Indeed, Miss Johnson.”

Rey’s eyes shot up at the words. Professor Solo was sitting across from a small, oak desk, practically folded into a small wooden chair. His voice was deep and smooth as it rumbled from his chest, and for a brief moment, she wondered what it would sound like if she could only press her ear up against him. She tried in vain to shake away the thought, and she could feel the tips of her ears growing red. She was supposed to be mad at him, wasn’t she? Rey couldn’t remember what for.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Ben,” Jannah greeted the man, before motioning for Rey to sit in the seat next to his own. “I’m sorry I had to take you away from your first hour, but this really needed to be handled as quickly as possible.” The woman then slid herself into the chair on the other side of the desk.

_Ben._ The name rolled itself around in her head. _Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben._ This close to him she could smell him—the sharp bite of his Irish Spring body wash, the slight tinge of sweat, and something warm like nutmeg or oiled leather. Although his gaze was set straight ahead at Jannah, Rey’s own was set on him, on the profile of his face lit by the window, in the way his hair curled wet against his collar. _He must have showered this morning—he must have been running late._ There was something magnetic about him, about being next to him, close enough to touch. She wondered if he felt it too. Her eyes trailed down to the white-knuckled grip his hands currently had on the wooden arms of the chair he was in, to where she could see the winding line peaking out from underneath his gunmetal grey suit. She went dizzy looking at it, and yet she could feel his disdain radiating off of him in waves. Rey was pulled out of her thoughts suddenly when he spoke.

“Professor Solo, if you please, Ms. Calrissian,” _Ben_ said.

Jannah looked as if she wanted to say something in return, but she just shook her head slightly and shifted the papers on her desk. “Anyways, lets get started, shall we?”

“Get started with what?” Rey asked, finally drawing her eyes away from Professor Solo.

“Well, as I understand, during an incident in class yesterday, the two of you became soulmarked. While it is rare for students and teachers to become matched, it isn’t unheard of. Unfortunately dear, it does take a little bit extra paperwork compared to just a normal pairing,” Jannah explained, handing Rey a packet from across the desk, “I just need the both of you to read over the forms here, and sign them. Then we can file one copy with the school and another with the Bureau, and you should be all set.” It was oddly—chipper, the way she sounded, as if she couldn’t notice the death grip Professor Solo had on his chair or the way he was working his jaw or the fact that he clearly had no desire to be here, that he clearly didn’t want _her._ It seemed ridiculous that she was missing it, when it seemed so obvious to Rey.

Rey gulped as Jannah handed her a pen, and Professor Solo stiffened at her side.

It was simple. All the pages she needed to sign were marked. It would be easy enough to flip through the pages. All she had to do was write her name, and yet she hesitated. Each line seemed to glare back at her with the realization that this made it all official. Not the flowers sprouting up her left side, not the line bisecting his right eye, but this—this here. Rey knew she should have been terrified, she should have been scared half to death, but she wasn’t—even if that was how it probably appeared to the other two people in the room. Instead, it kind of felt like looking at the oil painting at Plutt’s, or Maz telling her she’d know Rey’s eyes anywhere. Like she was standing on the edge of a storm, the inevitability of what was to come looming on the horizon. Like she had been here before, in another life, in another place, and if she focused hard enough, she could see the outline of two people against the tree line.

Her hand waivered over the pages for a moment as the certainty of it all crashed down on her, and then she signed on the dotted line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. (If you're not ready for awkward bbq chit chat, prepare yourself. It's coming. lol)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this posted a week late? Yes, and I'm terribly sorry. I've had a rough couple of weeks, so writing has taken longer than expected. This chapter is slightly longer than the last though, so that is my present to you for waiting. I will hopefully be able to post on time next week, but it will probably be another rollercoaster, so let's just say I'll update as soon as possible.  
> Thank you so much for all of your support on the last chapter! I really appreciate reading your comments! :)  
> For the most up to date info on when I'll be posting, check out my tumblr page soloredeemed.tumblr.com

Ben saw the way Rey hesitated over the pages, the way her hand shook as she brought the ink to the paper, and all of his fears were confirmed. She didn’t want this—she didn’t want _him_. From the moment Rey had walked into Ms. Calrissian’s office, she had been glaring him down, a sort of fire he could feel boring a hole into the side of his head. In spite of that, he had a duty to sign the forms. Ben had known it would come to this all along. Legally, even if Rey decided to marry someone else one day—although those types of situations were extremely rare—Ben would remain as her medical proxy, would still be tied to her by the state, and if one day, hypothetically, she decided to divorce said spouse and runaway with Ben, then the marriage was to be automatically annulled as if it had never happened. That last law had been created specifically for those who decided to marry before they had met their soulmate, and then chose to pursue said relationship later in life, but it still applied to any and all situations. He had a _legal_ right to her, and she to him.

There was something dangerous in that thought—that he _owned_ her, and it reminded him far too much of the man he used to be, of the monster he saw every time he looked into the mirror. That was the real reason he wouldn’t touch her, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to be that man again, the one who had no control, the one who did unspeakable things just because he was asked, just because he could. The lawyer in him wanted to scream the truth of what she was signing out into the room, to put on his best court scowl and inform her just how little choice either of them had in the matter, whether or not she wanted to continue glaring at him for the rest of her life. Ben remembered himself after a moment, taking the pen from her outstretched hand. He was supposed to hate her anyways, why did it matter if she didn’t like him in return? The thought was logical enough, but it still left an empty hole in his chest where he expected his heart was supposed to be.

A voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Poe whispered, _because you don’t hate her, do you?_

“Is that all?” Ben asked harshly once the last line was signed. He set the forms onto Ms. Calrissian’s desk with a thud.

“Actually,” the woman said, her t’s sharp against her teeth, “there is one more matter we should probably discuss. Although it is usually against school policy for teacher-student soulmate pairs to interact during class time—” Ben could see where this was headed, like a train wreck in slow motion before him, and he paled for a moment. He hadn’t even considered the fact that he would have to see her every day. That she would walk into his class every fourth hour with that smile on her face reserved for everyone but him. He tightened his jaw and prepared himself for the worst. “You, _Professor Solo,_ ” she drug out the name with a hint of sarcasm, “are the only Civics teacher this semester, and as it is a requirement to graduate, there is no other option but to have Rey continue to attend your class.” She didn’t sound even the slightest bit remorseful of the fact.

He could feel Rey deflate next to him.

“I trust that there will be no undue treatment of the student or her grades?” Ms. Calrissian asked, and the question hung in the air for a moment, a weighted thing.

Ben resisted the urge to glance over at Rey, to look at her for the first time that day. Instead, he kept his gaze trained straight ahead. “I assure you, it will not be an issue.”

*

Rey wasn’t stupid, she could tell when she was being ignored, and Professor Solo was flat out ignoring her. Every time she passed him in the hall, or walked into his class, the man would avert his gaze. Once, she had even attempted a small wave between classes that had been quickly dismissed with a hard glare. She had noticed him turn his head over his shoulder right after, though, so she couldn’t be sure he had realized she was waiving at _him._

Rey felt lost in all of this mess, and wanted, more than anything, for the man to just look at her and smile, just a little, just for an instant. Rey wanted to see it again, the hint of softness in his eyes. She wanted to be something that he could want, too. The desperation behind that truth hit her hard on Thursday morning, when she realized just how much power his presence had over her, just how much she wanted to please him. How Rey laid awake most nights, tracing the lines on her skin and wondering why things couldn’t be different. It made her angry, if anything. The lack of control burning deep in her veins and reminding her of a time Rey wished she couldn’t remember.

Maybe that was why she turned to her closet that morning and let her hand hover over another long-sleeved shirt before decidedly pulling out one of her favorite graphic-T’s instead. It was a soft, sea grass green with white daisies spread across the chest and the words “have a nice daisy” printed in scrawling script. It was a strategic choice in more ways than one. The low v-neck cut allowed for her collarbone to be on full display, revealing almost the entirety of her mark. The flower print only called further attention to the wildflowers sprouting from her skin. Rey had spent the last couple of days trying to cover up any evidence of him, trying to hide from reality, to deny fate, but today, she wanted to flaunt it, to scream it to the world. _You can’t ignore me, Solo._

Maz smiled quietly when Rey walked into the kitchen to pour herself a bowl of cereal. She was clutching a chipped mug full of coffee at the table, and looking up at Rey with those wide, knowing eyes.

Rey still hadn’t told her the truth, not really. She hadn’t had the heart to explain. Rey thought Maz might already know though, somehow.

“Trying to get someone’s attention?” Maz asked, lips pressed to the rim of her cup.

“I guess you could say that,” Rey agreed as she sat her bowl down and slid into her seat. The dining room was a small, cramped thing with a simple wood table and two chairs, and peeling striped wallpaper. It was cozy though, and home.

“I’m sure he will,” Maz nodded, and even then, the words seemed to be saying more. It put something small and warm in Rey’s chest—something like hope. She carried it with her to school that day.

*

When Rey brushed past his desk on her way toward her seat, Ben’s breathing stilled at the sight of her bare skin, and the mark that climbed up her left side. For the last couple of days, it had seemed like she was doing her best to hide it, to deny the truth that was seared into her skin. It almost made him laugh a little, when he thought about it, how she would try and hide what was already written clear as day across his own face. That she would try and deny the undeniable. Then he saw the print on her shirt and realized she must be sending him a message. He gritted his teeth and went about his lecture, but a few times he caught himself staring in her direction. Every time, she was staring back.

“That girl is going to be the death of me,” Ben grumbled, slumping further in his chair. Today, Dameron had joined Ben in his own classroom for lunch.

“Probably,” Poe agreed, teetering back so the front legs of his seat were off the ground, balancing himself with a single foot perched on the edge of Ben’s desk, “have you even talked to her yet?”

“No,” Ben huffed, “and stop that before you crack your skull open and get blood all over my carpet.”

“The _school’s_ carpet,” Poe sing-songed in return, but he dropped his chair back down to the ground anyways.

“Yes, but I’m the one who will have to look at the stain for the rest of my life,” Ben huffed, “she came to school today with a _daisy_ shirt on.”

“Oooh, a flower shirt, truly a criminal offence,” Poe agreed, the humor clear in his voice, “would the jury convict? Or do you think she’d settle for the plea deal?”

“She was trying to get under my skin!” Ben protested, throwing the man a glare.

“So let her,” Poe shrugged, “seems like she was pretty successful anyways.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Well, at least my party on Saturday will help you get your mind off of all this _soulmate_ stuff, huh? Getting absolutely trashed is always a good idea,” Dameron offered.

Ben furrowed his brow, “what party?”

“You know, my barbeque? I told you about it, didn’t I? I sent you an email, I think,” Poe explained, a slight tilt to his head as if trying to remember the precise details of said invitation.

“That would explain it, pretty sure you’re still marked for spam,” Ben deadpanned, digging a large hand into his lunch bag, “and I’m not going.”

“Spam? A guy sends one dirty email and he gets marked for spam? C’mon man!” Poe protested.

“One dirty email to my _work account,”_ Ben replied, pulling out a bottle of water from the bottom of the bag and twisting the cap off with a snap. A bored expression was plastered across his face.

“It was the only email of yours I knew. And you’re coming,” Poe declared, brow raised expectantly.

“Why would I want to subject myself to the torture that is your friends?” Ben protested, taking a bite out of a carrot stick.

“Because you’re one of my friends, so they can’t _all_ be bad,” Poe smiled, a teasing edge to his voice.

Ben sighed tiredly, “what’s in it for me?”

“Free food? Free beer? The pleasure of my company?” Poe suggested.

“Fine, but I’m not going to like it,” Ben grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Poe agreed, nodding in mock seriousness.

“Will your uh—” Ben started awkwardly, waving his hand around in the air to suggest toward a meaning.

“Will my soulmate be there? Yeah. I think it will be good for you to meet him, actually,” Poe supplied easily. _Him, so it_ was _a he then._

Ben nodded quietly to himself, contemplating. “You never really talk about him, and I know you’re not married because I’m pretty sure I would have been invited to that wedding, whether or not I wanted to go—” then after a beat, “Huh, that actually sounds a lot like this current situation.” The last bit held a sort of sarcastic bite that made Ben’s lips twitch up in a sly smile.

“We decided it was best to keep things quiet for a little while. It’s not a big secret or anything. But, like I said, I think it will be good for you to meet him. Give you some needed perspective on whatever it is you have going on inside of that giant head of yours,” Poe told him.

Ben wasn’t exactly sure what the man meant by all of that, and his brow furrowed slightly at the words, but he decided not to dig too deep into it.

*

Ben didn’t bother knocking when he arrived at Poe’s place. He was half an hour early and clutching a bottle of Jack in one hand in leu of wine—Ben figured the man would appreciate it more—when he pushed through the unlocked front door. Poe still lived in the house he grew up in, now that his parents had passed, and at one point in time it was like a second home to Ben. Even so, it had been years since he last stepped foot in the place, and although it was his reflex to walk right in, as soon as he crossed the threshold, Ben suddenly doubted his decision. He waivered in the entryway, an achingly familiar childhood memory that made him rock back on his heels.

As a kid, Ben had spent so much of his time living in dusty old Jakku with his uncle while his mom was off working in the big city, or his dad was off doing something not quite legal. He resented them, probably, even back then. Resented how they left him with a man who could barely take care of himself, much less a child. Resented how they always promised to call but never did. Resented the way they looked at him like a problem, an inconvenience. The only escape from the reality of his abandonment was this house—and the light that seemed to radiate out of the walls.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by a strong hand clapping him on the shoulder.

“It’s been a while, eh?” Poe rumbled, his voice a little choked, even though he tried to disguise it, “I’m glad you made it man. Here, let me introduce you to Finn.”

Poe led Ben down the hall into the kitchen, where a young man, presumably Finn, was busy chopping bell peppers. He was average height, probably about as tall as Poe. He was wearing a soft blue t-shirt and tan cargo shorts, and even with his back to Ben, he could see the unmistakable mark of a winding oak tree climbing up his dark forearm. Finn turned at the sound of their footsteps, and shot the both of them a wide, toothy grin.

“You must be Ben!” He greeted, wiping his hands on the leg of his shorts before reaching out with an open palm. Ben took it in his own and shook firmly. “It’s great to finally meet you—with the way Poe talks about you, I was afraid you were a ghost—or maybe a hallucination.”

“What a glowing description of myself,” Ben stated flatly, but despite his tone, there was genuine fondness in his eyes. He wondered briefly why he didn’t do this more often— _socialize_.

“Hey! It’s not _all_ bad,” Dameron protested, holding his hands up in defense.

“No, definitely not all bad,” Finn agreed, “or I wouldn’t have let him invite you.” The young man waggled his eyebrows in emphasis. Immediately Ben could tell the pair was good for each other, just by the way their energy seemed to hit the same frequency. He didn’t usually indulge in those kind of thoughts, but it was clear to see that they just _worked._ Finn was young though—at least a good seven years younger than Poe, which made Ben think back on their earlier conversation. _I think it will be good for you to meet him. Give you some needed perspective._ Is this what he meant? Because of the age difference?

“Why don’t you two set up some chairs in the back? I have to finish prepping the food,” Finn offered, and Poe nodded stiffly in mock salute.

“Aye aye, captain,” Poe motioned for Ben to follow, “watch out for BB, he likes to run between ankles.”

“You got a cat?” Ben blanched, eyes wide. Poe had never been the domestic type, and something about a feline friend seemed to scream ‘settled down.’

“It seems we have some catching up to do, Solo,” the other man laughed.

*

Rey glanced down at the address on her phone and then back up at the house in front of her. Even though this was obviously the place—she could hear the music coming from the back yard—she hesitated before reaching up to knock on the dark oak door. The house was a lot bigger than she had been expecting, and in a far nicer neighborhood than Rey was known to frequent. While she had been excited for the party all week, as she glanced down at her clothes, she began to feel nervous. Rey had done her best to look presentable and had put on a pair of cutoff shorts and her nicest looking tank top. It was far too hot today to try and cover up anymore than that, the summer heat still thick in the late August air.

She took a breath before bringing her hand up to knock curtly. After a few moments with no answer, Rey shifted from one foot to the other and considered ringing the bell. Just then, the door swung open and a familiar face stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Dameron?” She balked. Rey had been in his World History class her freshman year, and for the first time she noticed the oak tree climbing up his forearm— _he was Finn’s soulmate?_

“Rey!” The man barked her name out in a laugh, “you must be the friend Finn invited, eh?” There was a gleam in his eye as if the moment was an inside joke she wasn’t included in.

“Yeah,” Rey mumbled, suddenly even more unsure of herself than she had been before.

“Well, Finn’s in the back manning the grill at the moment, you’re welcome to join him,” Mr. Dameron said kindly, seeming to notice her inner struggle, and swinging an arm back to welcome her in.

“Thanks,” Rey said softly, before heading toward the back of the house. She was just about to turn the corner into the living room when she hit something solid.

“Oh my god I’m so—Rey?”

She froze at the sound of his voice. Rey was unsure if she had ever heard her name leave his mouth before—but she was certain it had never sounded like this. Professor Solo’s amber eyes were wide, his lips parted, and the breathy gasp of her name still hung in the air between them. That’s when she noticed the weight of his hands gripping onto her shoulders. Surely in an attempt to steady her from the fall, except they hadn’t moved. Rey looked up and up and up at him, taking in the man outside of his usual attire, looking practically comfortable for once, and it made her go a little weak. He looked young in his grey T-shirt, and his jeans—his jeans had holes in the knees, worn by age. It made her think of him in ways she hadn’t imagined before. A life outside of school, outside of stiff suits and _Professor Solo,_ in places where people looked at him with familiarity and called him _Ben._ Rey wanted that, didn’t she? To be a part of those moments? To be one of those people? The thought was shattered instantly when he pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned.

“What are you doing here, Miss Johnson?” The man asked sternly, his face drawn into a scowl. Whatever flutter she had felt low in her stomach when he had looked at her, mouth agape, was snuffed out in a second. She had already been nervous, and what, he wanted to insinuate she didn’t even have a right to be there? A fire burned in place of butterflies.

“I’ll have you know I was _invited,”_ Rey drug out the last word like a rubber band ready to snap.

A different kind of anger flashed in his eyes then, and he ripped his gaze behind him as if he were looking for something, or someone, “Dameron!” The name came out in a shout, and it was the first time she had ever heard him genuinely angry. It wasn’t his teaching growl. He wasn’t snapping to have a student put their phone away. No, there was genuine fury in the way his muscles twitched. He turned toward the doorway, volume climbing, “If you think this is funny—I’ll,”

“Wait!” Rey broke in, stopping the man before he could leave. She had acted in an instant, fingers grasping on to anything to keep him from going, and it just happened to be the marked fingers of his right hand. She stared at them for a moment, anger replaced with something quiet, something vulnerable, something Rey didn’t like at all. “He didn’t invite me, I don’t think Mr. Dameron even knew I would be here. I’m Finn’s friend. He said I could come.”

She could feel Professor Solo still under her touch. It felt strange, really, as if a dull thrum of electricity was running from his hand into hers. His chest rose and fell, heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, the words soft, but he still wouldn’t look at her, “I shouldn’t have let myself get out of control like that.” There seemed to be something else behind those words, a meaning Rey couldn’t even begin to grasp. Professor Solo pulled his fingers from her own, slowly, carefully, so unlike the sudden way he had pulled back only moments before. She wanted to say something, do something, just to have him look at her, to speak to her, but Rey didn’t move. She just watched him go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I posted the last chapter so late, I decided to put this one up a little early. Because of that, it hasn't been edited as heavily as my chapters usually are, so you might notice a typo or two in places. Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter! I really love reading all your comments :)

Rey stood there for a moment and watched him go. She didn’t want to fall instep behind him in case he was headed to the backyard as well. She thought of the way his hand had felt in her own, grasping just at the ends of his fingertips. He had removed his hand from her own so carefully, so slowly. She hoped, hollowly, that maybe he hadn’t wanted to. Maybe, some small part of him wanted her, too.

She sighed quietly to herself and glanced around the room for a moment. There was a photograph on a bookshelf by the window of two boys throwing toothy grins at a camera. Rey figured the small boy on the left with dark curls and tan skin was probably Mr. Dameron. The little boy who his arm was wrapped around had pale skin and dark hair, curling slightly at the ends, just over his ears. The ears, in short, were magnificent—sticking out of the sides of his head. His smile was softer than Mr. Dameron’s, but genuine. She could see it in the way his eyes crinkled softly. In the light of the picture they looked almost amber. Rey paused, the realization catching up to her that the boy in the picture was Professor Solo. He must have only been ten or eleven in the photo. She stared at it for a moment longer, wondering if things could have been different if she had been a child tucked between the two boys. If she had grown up in a time when he still smiled.

When she finally found Finn, he greeted her with a warmly.

“Rey! I’m glad you could make it!” He was standing off to the side of the back patio by the grill, flipping something that smelled extremely good. Rey’s stomach growled audibly in response. “At least I know someone will appreciate my cooking,” Finn quipped lightly, and Rey nudged him in the side with her elbow.

“You could have told me that Mr. Dameron was your soulmate!” Rey hissed at him, determined to keep her voice low enough that any of the people milling about wouldn’t overhear, “we did go to the same school ya know?”

“Yeah,” Finn sighed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “I just figured if you knew it was _him,_ you probably wouldn’t want to come.”

“I have nothing against Mr. Dameron—”

“Poe,” Finn broke in, “here it’s probably okay if you call him Poe.”

Rey nodded stiffly, “well, Poe is fine. It’s tall, dark, and broody over there I have a problem with.” She motioned over to the far side of the yard where Professor Solo was nursing a beer and mumbling animatedly to Poe, who was standing and watching a few other men throw horseshoes. From the distance, she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was pretty easy to guess the subject matter. Rey could recognize a few of the people milling about as other teachers, like Mr. Wexley and Ms. Phasma, but most of the other faces were unfamiliar to her.

“Who, Ben?” Finn asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“ _Professor Solo,”_ Rey corrected, “he started teaching the year after you graduated. He’s currently my civics teacher.”

“And you what, don’t like the guy?” Finn questioned, brow furrowed. “He’s an old childhood friend of Poe’s—he seemed nice enough when I met him.”

“On the contrary, I would kill if the man would just talk to me. He seems determined to hate me,” Rey sighed, plopping down on a drink cooler sat next to the house.

“Why is it so important that your civics teacher talk to you?” Finn stabbed suspiciously at a piece of meat before cocking his head back at her.

“Because he’s not just my civics teacher. He’s my—” She waved her arm to motion toward the mark that was currently on full display.

“Oh shit,” Finn huffed, the words coming out in a breathy sort of laugh.

“Oh shit is right.” Rey slumped against the siding and hid her head in her hands. “If I had known _he_ was coming, I definitely wouldn’t have bothered showing up.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think the man _hates_ you,” Finn offered with a shrug of his shoulders. He was squinting off toward where Poe and Ben were talking as if he were studying him.

“Yeah, how’s that?” Rey questioned.

“Well, for one thing, he was in a perfectly good mood when he got here, and now he looks like—well I dunno, like someone gut punched him or something and he’s pouting about it,” Finn tried to explain. “Can you help me with this? Just hold the plate.” He handed a plate out to Rey and she took it as he stabbed at done pieces of chicken with a fork.

“That’s not really helping my case,” Rey pointed out.

Finn shoved a few pieces onto the plate before looking at her in the eyes. “Rey, if he really wanted nothing to do with you, he wouldn’t be so _upset_ about you being here. He’d probably ignore your existence, sure, but he wouldn’t be off in the corner complaining about it. He was in a perfectly fine mood, and then he wasn’t. You’re _doing_ things to him, Rey. It’s clear he’s not happy bout it, but that doesn’t mean he hates you, it just means he _wants_ to hate you.”

“I don’t understand how that’s any better,” Rey said, dropping her gaze.

“Because that means he _doesn’t,”_ Finn motioned pointedly with the large fork he was holding, “and I think you should confront him about it.”

“What?” Rey balked.

“Hey, if the man needs a little pushing, then push him,” Finn shrugged.

Rey let her eyes trail over to Professor Solo. The man did look bothered. He kept raking one of his large hands through his hair and shifting from foot to foot. Professor Solo didn’t seem like the type of guy to be taken off guard by just _anyone_ showing up to a party. Maybe it did mean something, then. Maybe she did have an effect on him.

*

“What the hell, Dameron!” Ben stormed toward the man, shoulders hunched over and eyes ablaze, to where Poe watched two people he wasn’t familiar with play horse shoes off near the corner of the yard. Even though Rey had seemed adamant that Poe didn’t know she was coming, a part of him couldn’t really believe it.

Poe’s brow shot up at his approach, “I see you ran into our surprise guest.”

The two playing paused for a moment, interested in whatever chaos was brewing nearby, but Ben shot them both a glare and they soon turned their attention back to the game.

“Literally,” he mumbled under his breath, scuffing his heel against the grass, “a heads up would have been nice,” Ben hissed. He glanced up to where Rey was just now exiting the house, and quickly pulled his eyes away.

“Look man, I had no idea that’s who Finn had invited. He said a friend was coming, and that she was female, but that was about the end of that conversation,” Poe shrugged, clearly unamused. Ben, meanwhile, was biting hard into his cheeks and digging his nails into his fleshy palms in an effort to not deck the man.

“How does he even _know_ her?” Ben questioned.

“Maybe because they went to the same school? I don’t think they were super close in school, though. He said something about her being a regular at the convenience store. Maybe that’s when they became close?” Poe mused. Ben couldn’t be sure if the man was being purposefully difficult, or if difficult was a personality trait of his. He suspected it was the latter.

“What do you mean they went to the same school?” Ben asked. The words had set something turning in his head, a slow realization that was just now coming together.

“Finn graduated what? Three years ago? The year before you started teaching, actually,” Poe said easily, eyes wandering over to where Rey and Finn were chatting by the grill. Ben caught the young man’s gaze as Finn turned to look over his shoulder at the two of them. Ben scowled deeply in response. “That was actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about—I wanted you to see—well he was never my student. I didn’t actually have him in any classes, but I had seen him around school a few times. It wasn’t until I walked into that little convenience store he works at a couple years back when my car broke down and I was waiting for a tow, that I really ever spoke to him. He offered me a bottle of water and a smile, and shit, man, when he handed me the damn thing, it was like my entire world shifted into place. I’m not one to wax poetic, you know that, but really. It was something.”

“I thought,” Poe continued, sighing a little, “I thought if you could come today, and see that it works with us, in spite of the age difference, or how I was a teacher at his school, maybe you’d be able to accept that _sure_ maybe you’re not ready to be in a relationship with your student _right now,_ but that she won’t be your student _forever.”_

Ben deflated slightly. He had noticed how young Finn was, it just had never occurred to him that Poe could have been his _teacher_ at some point. That the two of their situations weren’t so different after all. The fight that had been boiling in him moments before faded away slowly. What Poe had said didn’t solve everything, but it certainly gave Ben a lot to think about.

“Rey’s a good kid, Ben. I think she might surprise you.”

*

Ben had never been great with emotions. Even when he was young, they seemed to be too much for his body to handle. It was as if it was an overflowing cup of feeling that liked to spill over and make a mess any chance it got. His therapist much later in life would tell him this was normal for a child who felt unattended to. That the unhealthy relationship with his parents at such a young age probably only served to exacerbate the problem. Ben had swallowed his clever retort of _you think?_ Even then, he was pretty sure his response was written all over his face.

All Ben had ever wanted to be was his father. As a boy, the man was a bright beacon of all his hopes and dreams. It was strange, looking back on where he wanted to be and where he ended up, but it wasn’t surprising. As he got older, the gold that once plated his vision of his father flaked away. Ben couldn’t cry in front of his father, as a child. The man was gruff and unattached, slinking in and out of the house on a whim. His mother left often, but she usually kept to a schedule. Her abandonment was predictable—practically written on the calendar. Han’s was unexpectable, and much harder to accept. Ben was always ‘kid’ to him, no matter the situation. Scraped knees garnered a worried, “are you okay, kid?” Pride a mumbled “nice job, kid.” But tears—tears earned him a clap on the shoulder and a huffed, “c’mon kid.” Maybe that’s why he started throwing punches instead.

His parents were soulmates—themselves nearly ten years apart in age—but then never seemed to meld together like most couples did. They were always fighting, or not speaking. It took him far too long to realized that most of the fighting was about _him,_ but when he did—once they had sent him away to Luke and it was as if all their problems had disappeared—Ben realized he was unwanted.

He had gotten over resenting them for it years ago. Resentment only lead him back to that dark corner of his mind that he didn’t like to touch. The one that sent him into flashes of his bloodied fist and holes in the drywall. He could still hear the echoes of his mother’s screams if he got too close to the memory of the night he left and never came back—or had planned never to go back. Ben had been so sure of his anger back then. It was the only feeling that didn’t hurt to let out.

Maybe that’s why he chose to hate her, because it was easier than letting her see the other pieces of himself Ben had been trained to hide, because the only pain in throwing punches was the split knuckles afterwards. Nothing a couple stitches couldn’t fix.

He was nursing a glass of Jack and Coke in Poe’s living room as he thought it all over. It was well into the night, now, and the sun was just dipping down beneath the horizon. Ben had left the lights out when he had first sat down in the solitude of the room, and now it was almost entirely cast in shadow. He honestly hadn’t even noticed that Rey had walked in.

“Why do you insist on acting like I don’t exist?” She was standing in front of him, arms crossed. She was wearing that look on her face—the one that screamed that Ben was Public Enemy Number One. He scowled down at his drink. Ben couldn’t remember if it was the third glass or the fourth, not including the two beers he had drank with dinner. He hadn’t planned on getting drunk tonight, but there he was, already crashing past tipsy. The cat, BB he thought Poe had called him, was an orange tabby with a white stomach. He had wandered in not long after Ben had and had made a home near his feet. Ben toed at it with his socked foot, then, and the cat turned its head to look at him with wide, green eyes. “Look at me!” Rey practically yelled at him. Ben swirled the last remnants of the amber liquid around in his glass tiredly before finishing it with a heavy gulp. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

“You’re a child, Miss Johnson. I am a grown man, and a teacher, _your teacher._ Besides, you already seem so intent on hating me, so I don’t see why it should matter. Don’t think I didn’t notice how ready you were to escape me,” his voice came out low and even, and steadier than he would have predicted. He was thankful for that, at least.

“Ready? I was _afraid._ My civics teacher turned out to be my soulmate, and he was looking at me as if I had just ruined his entire life. And I’ll have you know _Solo,_ I’m 18. Whatever rules you feel the unnecessary need to be following don’t even apply here.”

Huh, well that was a piece of information he wasn’t aware of. Ben tilted his head slightly at her words. He wondered vaguely what had set her off, why she had chosen this moment to explode in front of him like a firecracker. _I think she might surprise you._

“Don’t act as if you were thrilled at the news. You, looking at me like I kicked your puppy. Like I was a monster,” there was bitterness in his voice now. As if he wasn’t really talking to her, but to the image of her. If he was being honest with himself, he had already had this conversation with her a dozen times over, lying awake in bed at night, tracing the black line seared into his skin, “I’ll have you know, Miss Johnson, I am,” his voice cracked on the last word. Rey’s eyes widened slightly, and he thought he saw something like fear flash across her face, but it was soon followed by something softer, like confusion or disbelief. After a moment, she found her resolve again.

“Rey! My name is Rey and you know it so you might as well use it. _Johnson_ was the name given to me by the state when I was nine years old. The only family I had died before I could even meet them. Don’t act like just because you choose to be all broody and mean to your students means I don’t see you for what you are. We’ve all done things to survive, Solo. That doesn’t make you a monster, it makes you a human being,” the anger drained out of her voice slowly. Ben slouched farther down into the plush chair, lolling his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He couldn’t look at her, not with her mark on full display. Not with her looking at him like he was something that could be save, be redeemed. Not when she was looking at him like she could _understand._ Really understand. Not like the therapist musing over his parent’s betrayal. Like someone who knew what it meant to feel utterly alone.

“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” he said instead, his voice barely a whisper against the shadow of the room.

“Then tell me,” she pleaded. Rey was close to him now, unbelievably close. Ben could reach out and touch her, if he wanted to, and oh did he want to.

He clutched his empty glass in a white-knuckled grip. It was probably the alcohol speaking, but when he opened his mouth again, he said, “I don’t know if I have the strength to do it—not yet. But one day, maybe, I’ll try.”

She nodded slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the next, before leaving him alone in the dark. Rey never had the chance to see him reaching out toward her as she went. Ben couldn’t help but regret not taking her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, pain. But hey, at least we're getting somewhere, eh?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I'm late again! I moved back into college last week, and then my cat died, and then classes started. So, if I'm being honest, life kinda sucks at the moment. No worries though, I am still working on this story! (Even if it takes me a little longer than a week to post each chapter). The next chapter should at least be out by next Tuesday, as I already have a good portion of that written as well. Thank you so much for the support on the last chapter! I really love reading your comments!

Ben woke up the next morning groggy, a headache pulsing to the sound of his phone ringing where it sat on his nightstand. He hadn’t had enough to drink to warrant any gaps in his memory, hadn’t had that much in a very long time, actually, but it was enough to feel his age. Sundays were the one day a week he allowed himself to sleep without an alarm, so the interruption was particularly irritating. He huffed, rolling over and throwing out an arm to grab the thing. He didn’t look at the screen before answering. Ben almost immediately wished he had.

“Ben Solo, you found out you had a soulmate, and didn’t even have the sense to call your mother?” Her tone was stiff and demanding, and all too familiar. He felt like a child again, defiant under her scrutinizing gaze.

He groaned in response, “who told you?”

“Why does it matter who told me? It _should have_ been you,” Leia pushed back. She was always one to push her point above all else. It was what had made her a great senator in her younger years, and business woman later in life. It was not, however, what made her a good mother. Quite the contrary.

Ben rubbed tiredly at his eyes, vaguely hoping that this was all part of some elaborate dream, and any moment now he’d be waking up around eleven and fully rested. “Was it Dameron? Because it really is weird that you _chat_ with him. You know that, right?”

“Well at least he tells me things,” his mother said pointedly, “this is the kind of thing you tell your mother, Ben! I need details! I need to start planning the wedding!”

He sighed heavily into the phone, “there isn’t going to be a wedding.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course there’s going to be a wedding, we could have it at your grandmother’s estate in Naboo! Oh it would be beautiful—overlooking the Vineyard—”

“Mom,” Ben cut in, “there won’t be a wedding, because I’m not marrying this girl.” The edge to his voice must have clued her in, because the excitement that had once laced Leia’s tone faded into a quiet sort of confusion. She got like that sometimes, when she couldn’t quite understand why someone was seeing an issue a different way than her. It had annoyed him to no end as a teenager. It was hard to argue with such a demanding woman when she suddenly attempted to _understand_ what she clearly didn’t want to know.

“And why not?”

“She’s a student,” Ben huffed, kicking his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. Light streamed in from his window, soft yet searing against his sleep filled eyes. In a way, it reminded him of Rey.

“Oh,” Leia replied, the word dropping like a stone from her mouth.

“Oh,” Ben mimicked, dragging his free palm through his messy hair.

“Well that’s a minor setback. I’m sure that a wedding would be out of the question _now,_ but maybe in a couple of years—” His mother started.

Ben sighed heavily, “you see, this is why I didn’t tell you.”

“What, because I would be reasonable?” Leia challenged, her voice ticking up a notch.

“No, because you wouldn’t understand my reservations on the matter,” Ben bit back.

“Sweetheart. I understand full well what your reservations are. I probably had a similar fear when your father and I were marked. You need to understand that an age gap isn’t the end all be all,” she spoke calmly. Ben could almost picture her perched in her favorite armchair in the study, looking out the back window at the tree-lined back yard. “You should call your father, he would understand what you’re going through.”

Ben hummed noncommittally in return. While their relationship had mended some over the years, Ben wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to the man about something so personal. There was still a sheen of shame and hurt between them. Like a wall constantly dividing them.

“Ben…” his mother sighed into the phone. He knew what it did to her, the fighting, the not speaking, but it was all he had known for so long, he still couldn’t seem to shake it. “Well, when you figure out what’s going on in that giant head of yours, feel free to invite her over for dinner. We haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

“I know,” he said softly, “talk to you later, Mom.” He didn’t wait for her to speak before he hung up the phone. Ben stared at it in his hands, for a moment. The thing suddenly feeling heavier than before. This was usually the sort of thing that would bring him to the boxing gym in town so he could slam his fists into the punching bags until his knuckles tore open. Today, there wasn’t any fight left in him.

He considered just lying back down in bed, when his phone buzzed in his hand. Ben glanced down at the notification to see he had received an email. The message made him freeze.

_Spalpatine@sandplaw.com_

Did you think you could escape me so easily, boy?

_-Sheeve Palpatine  
Snoke and Palpatine Lawfirm. _

*

“So, Paige came home from college for our parent’s anniversary on Saturday, so that was super cool. It feels like it’s been forever since I saw her last. How was your weekend?” Rose chirped, walking up behind Rey. The girl was wearing a wide smile, as if the fact that it was a Monday had no effect on her good mood. _Astonishing._

“Well,” Rey started, hiking her backpack up a little further on her shoulder, “you know that party I told you I was going to on Saturday?”

“Yeah? How was it?” The other girl questioned easily.

“Well it was at Mr. Dameron’s house,” Rey deadpanned.

“What?” Rose gasped, now fully engrossed in Rey’s story.

“Yeah—and Professor Solo was there,” Rey hissed, trying her best to keep other students from overhearing. They had seemed to calm down over the course of last week about Rey’s _predicament,_ once it became clear that neither of them were about to jump over a desk and _take_ the other right there on the classroom floor, which Rey was at least somewhat grateful for.

“Oh my god, girlie, what happened?” Rose stuttered to a stop in the middle of the hall, eyes wide. Rey back up quickly to a wall to avoid the glares of students headed to class behind them. She reached out to pull Rose with her.

“I spoke my mind, I guess. Finn suggested that I just confront him—so near the end of the night, I did,” Rey said simply, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

“Woah, you can’t just go and brush off a revelation like this! I need _details,”_ Rose practically pleaded. Rey sighed and slid down against the white brick wall until she was sitting on the floor. She motioned for the other girl to join her.

“He was drunk, probably, when I started talking to him. I’m not sure he would have said half the things he did if he were completely sober. He said really horrible things about himself—almost like he didn’t think he was _worthy_ of a soulmate or something. Like maybe it didn’t really matter that I was his student—like maybe he just hates _himself._ At least, that’s what I’m going with,” Rey admitted carefully. She didn’t know how to tell Rose about the look in his eyes. How he seemed almost hollow in the shadow of the room. How the word ‘monster’ fell from his lips as if he meant it, the way his voice cracked around the words ‘I am.’ It felt to private for hallway gossip, too important to reveal so nonchalantly. There was something else there, too, something she tucked away into the corner of her heart. Something quiet and warm that felt like hope. _I’ll try._

“That’s it?” Rose pushed, clearly unsatisfied.

“No that’s not it,” Rey told her, studying the lines curling up her fingertips, “it just—”

Rose seemed to soften beside her, “it just feels too personal? I know what you mean. I don’t know if I would want to talk about it either.”

“Thanks,” Rey breathed, just as the warning bell went off, “I’ll see you in class, yeah?”

“Of course,” Rose smiled. 

*

When Rey walked into class on Monday, things felt— _different._ Ben couldn’t really explain it, but her presence was no longer a cold shoulder, or a mocking beam of warmth he couldn’t dare touch. When she walked in, bumping shoulders with her friend Rose, she looked him in the eyes and smiled, just a little. A heat grew in his belly warm like whiskey. He couldn’t bring his lips to curl up into a smile of his own, but he nodded at her, hoping that maybe she would see, would understand that through all of it, he was trying.

_We’ve all done things to survive._ What had she done, to survive? How did Rey become the type of person who could say that sort of thing with such conviction? In that moment, Ben realized something he would have rather not noticed—he wanted to _know_ her. The thought worried him. He had let his guard down around her for one moment—one second, and what? Now he was fascinated, engrossed by the reality that she was. He ran a hand through his hair, and he dropped his gaze down to his desk. Ben did his best not to look at her for the rest of the period.

*

“You told my mother?” Ben burst into Poe’s room, and the man startled in his chair.

“Told her what?” He responded, his tone dripping with innocence.

“About Rey, dipshit. What else?” Ben huffed, stomping over to Poe’s desk. He drug a chair that had been sitting by the door behind him, and the legs scraped against the ground.

“What, you mean _you_ hadn’t told her?” Poe seemed genuinely surprised at the revelation, sitting up straighter in his seat. “Dude, I knew you had your reservations about the thing, but to not even tell your own mom?”

“I didn’t want her to get all—” Ben attempted to explain, hand circling in the air above his head as if the words were floating somewhere above him. He slumped into the seat, defeated, “like her, I guess. And she did, thank you very much.”

“First of all,” Poe challenged, a palm flat against his desk, “this isn’t my fault. Had you told her _a week ago,_ ya know, _when it happened,_ she wouldn’t have had to hear it from me.”

Ben waited for a beat before responding.

“And second of all?” He asked.

“Huh?”

“You said first of all, I’m assuming there’s another point following it,” Ben sighed.

“I’m a history teacher, not an English teacher, jackass,” Poe frowned, and Ben couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, Finn told me the two of you talked,” Poe started, and the smile that had been creeping up into Ben’s cheeks immediately faded.

“If you want details, I’m not giving you any,” Ben grumbled.

“Hey, hey,” Poe deflected, hands up, “I didn’t ask for details. I just want you to know I think it was, I dunno, big of you, I guess. A step in the right direction.”

“You just want to be right,” Ben mumbled, eyes dropped as he searched for something in his lunch bag.

“Sure, I want to be right!” Poe acknowledged, “but I also prefer you when you’re not all broody and mean, and if getting over whatever hang ups you have about this girl does that—well then it’s a win for mankind.”

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously, though, do you feel any better about it, now that you’ve actually had a moment to speak to her,” Poe asked, his voice suddenly gentler.

“Look, it wasn’t as if I had a sudden realization. It wasn’t as if she walked in and parted the Red Sea and all my fears disappeared. She yelled at me, I talked at her, that was pretty much it,” Ben shrugged.

“Mmmhmmm,” Poe hummed, “you didn’t really answer the question.”

“Yes, ok? I feel better about it now. Not great—but better,” Ben admitted. “But, there’s something else.” He lowered his voice instinctively at this, “I got an email, yesterday. From Palpatine.”

“Did you answer it?” Poe hissed, eyes suddenly blown wide.

“Of course not! But if he’s coming for me, I don’t want—Back then, when I worked for S&P, I didn’t have any connections, I didn’t have anyone I cared about. I didn’t have anything to _lose,_ Dameron. And now—I mean, just look at the timing,” Ben pushed out a shaky breath, and suppressed the urge to look over his shoulder. The man knew all too well what kind of power Sheev Palpatine held, knew that he could be listening in at any moment. It felt as if the eyes of Poe’s stupid Sherlock Holmes poster was watching him.

“You think he knows about her, about Rey,” Poe supplied. His posture was ducked down in a similar stance of secrecy. The man was well versed in Ben’s history, as he was the first person Ben confided in when he had finally decided to leave the life of law behind.

Ben nodded solemnly in return.

“But why now, why wait until now to reach out to you, to contact you?” Poe questioned, shaking his head slightly, “it doesn’t make sense.”

“Leverage,” Ben shrugged, “he needed leverage. Something I couldn’t bare to lose. My job, my parents, all of it is stuff I have abandoned in the past—but this, a soulmate—Dameron, I don’t know what he wants, but it’s going to be something big.”

The words sat cold and dark between the two men. They finished their lunches in silence.

*

Monday afternoon, Rey took another shift at the shop. When she got there, she wished she hadn’t. For a Monday, it was abnormally busy, which was never a good sign. She walked in, avoiding the hungry gazes of the couple of men milling about the shop, and found her perch behind the back counter. Both men were heavy set—with broad shoulders and hard brows. The kind of man Rey would consider dangerous even if they weren’t in the Pawn Shop looking like they weren’t really there for the fake Rolexes they were studying in the case in front of them.

Rey shifted nervously in her seat. A few muffled shouts came from the back room, and Rey’s heartrate sped up. She had always done her best to avoid the things that went on in the back office, knowing full well she was paid to shut up, but there had been a couple of times where she had seen things she really shouldn’t have. She shivered at the memory of Plutt’s hot, stinking breath on her face, and the sharp look in his eye as he threatened her to never say a word. 

She needed the money. Once the school year was over, the State would age her out of the system. It was a blessing they had let her stay on as long as they had, but Maz had made some argument about how a stable home was best for schooling, and her appeal to continue on in the system until she graduated was approved. That meant, if she wanted to go to college, have some place to live, to survive, she had to have the funds.

Rey knew better—knew better than to go poking into things that weren’t her business, things that would certainly get her into far too much trouble than it was worth, but sometimes, the trouble came to her. She looked back up at the painting on the wall, the dark trees casting blue shadows against the snow-covered ground, at the figures she could almost make out against the black horizon. Rey imagined them bursting forth, thrown into the scene in a fury of color. She couldn’t be sure if they were dancing, or fighting, but a small part of her imagined it was both. That the two of them were opposite sides of the same coin, warring for dominance, and yet, spinning across a table-top with no end in sight. It was with this thought that her world turned on end. The back door swung open, and Rey’s eyes caught sight, for a split second, of what was behind the door.

She tried to avert her gaze, tried to act as if she hadn’t seen the stacks of white powder, but it was too late. Plutt’s eyes locked onto her. Looking was the type of minor insurrection he tended to forgive—if forgiveness was a good term for it. The man knew full well that Rey was aware of the dealings that happened in the back. But the two men who had been busying themselves with cheap imitation watches had seen her look too.

Plutt had an image to uphold. And men like the ones that glared in her direction were the kind that needed certain assurances. He turned on her swiftly, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out from behind the counter. Rey knew how to fight back, knew that with a quick jab to the throat and a rough twist of her arm she’d be free, but she also knew everything it would cost her. She kept her head down and let the man pull her out the front door.

*

Ben wasn’t usually one to go for drives, but late after work on Monday, he decided it was the best way to gather his thoughts. There was something almost magnetic that pulled him toward his sleek black Tie in the driveway. He didn’t think to question it as he sat down behind the wheel without even a destination in mind. His Uncle, as crazy as he was, used to talk about a force that connected everyone, through time and space. Maybe he should have listened closer to the old man’s ramblings. Maybe soulmates weren’t just a mix of biochemistry that tied one person to another, like they taught in school. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was fate.

At least, that was the only thing that made sense when he decided to turn down an unfamiliar street in the shadier part of town, only to see a familiar figure being dragged outside of a small, concrete building near the corner. He slammed on the breaks before he could even process what was happening. The car screeched to a halt beneath him, and he threw open his door. The world was red, as if his vision had been flooded with blood. He could taste it, like iron on his tongue. It was a type of pure fury Ben hadn’t felt in a long, long time. A small, rational part of himself tried to justify the madness. Tried to convince himself that he would have done this for any of his students. All of that faded away when his gaze snapped to Rey, pooled against the concrete.

No, this ugly, oaf of a man had his hands on something that was _Ben’s,_ and he would pay for it with his blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Protective Ben is Best Ben.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but we make some big strides, so I didn't want to stuff it up with a bunch of stuff that doesn't matter as much. It's soft, so so soft, and I really enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for the amazing response so far! It is honestly your comments that encourage me to post as often as I do, so thank you!

“You’re lucky I don’t fire you like the _rat_ you are,” Plutt growled, roughly throwing Rey out the front door of the shop and onto the sidewalk. The men in the shop must have been important to the operation, for him to be so public with his reprimands. She could feel the sting of scraped knees, and was certain if she looked down, there would be a small puddle of blood growing underneath her. She gritted her teeth against the pain but said nothing.

The next thing she knew, a car was screeching to a halt in front of her. The stench of hot rubber crawled into her nostrils. She prayed it wasn’t a cop, certain they would just make the situation worse. Rey dropped her gaze low as heavy footfalls stomped towards her and Plutt, who still had a greasy palm clutched around her arm.

“Who the hell are you?” Plutt questioned, a hard edge to his voice. Not a cop then. Rey let out a puff of air in relief.

“You need to let go of her,” came the voice of the growing shadow in front of her. And oh, _oh._ She let her eyes trail up from his shiny black shoes, past his charcoal grey slacks, gaze climbing and climbing until Rey could see his face. There was a fire in him, fists clenched ready to strike, jaw hard. A dazed part of her wondered how he got here so quickly, how he knew she was in trouble. The logical side of herself that knew she was perfectly capable to deal with the situation tried to push the thought away, she didn’t need to be _rescued._ It was all just a huge, strange, coincidence—probably. 

“You need to mind our own business,” Plutt spat back, tightening his grip. Rey could feel the bruises forming from where his fingertips dug into her skin.

“If you don’t let go of her now, I will kill you, and I will get away with it,” Professor Solo warned. His voice was as sharp and as even as a razor blade, and something about that fact made it sound all the more threatening. It was chilling, seeing him like that, but there was a small, selfish part of her that reveled in the warmth of it all. There was a truth in his eyes. He really would do it. Professor Solo really would kill this man for her. That was another thought she tried to shake away, to rid herself of, but it was as if she were drunk on his presence. Instead, she found herself asking a different question— _could he get away with it?_ Rey knew there were certain exceptions made for crimes committed by soulmates in the protection of another, but she wasn’t so sure the law would extend to such extreme circumstances. Maybe he meant something else, then. Maybe he wasn’t referring to the law at all. Maybe he meant that no one would ever find the body. 

She could feel Plutt’s full bellied chuckle before she heard it, but sure enough his grubby hand released its hold on her. “Fine, the bitch is all yours,” Plutt laughed, turning to saunter back into the shop. Rey was jostled forward by the movement and she fell forward onto her hands. Professor Solo took a single, lunging step forward, before Rey grabbed quickly onto the bottom of his pant leg.

“Professor Solo,” she said quietly, he took another step, as if he hadn’t heard her. Rey tugged him back more urgently than before, “Ben!” The man froze and looked down to where she was still kneeling on the sidewalk. His name was a single staccato against the empty street, and for a moment, it felt like a foreign thing leaving her lips. “Please, it’s not worth it.”

“I’m going to break that disgusting piece of filth’s nose,” he growled, but he did not surge forward. Instead, he stood like a coiled spring at her side, the tension rolling off of him in waves. 

“Please, I need this job,” Rey begged, fingers still wrapped up in his pant leg. It was funny, she thought bitterly, how often she found herself clutching on to pieces of him, begging him to stay. She had never needed anyone before, and she certainly didn’t need him to fight her battles for her—and yet.

“You can’t work here after he—after he did that to you!” Professor Solo exclaimed, hand waiving for emphasis at the door of the shop. Rey dropped her gaze, and the electricity that had seemed to buzz through the man not moments before, dissipated. “Unless he’s done something like that before,” he said slowly. He took the hand still suspended in the air and ran it through his hair. He was shaking, Rey noticed. She couldn’t tell if it was from anger, fear, or relief, but his heavy exhales seemed to roll through him.

“Just once or twice. Just when I’ve seen something or said something I shouldn’t have. It doesn’t matter, he pays well, and I need the money,” Rey stumbled over the words. “Professor Solo, please. I can handle myself—” Even if she had said his name before, she still didn’t feel right about using it. She still felt separate from his world. Rey wanted to be one of the people who knew him, one of the people who got to call him by his name—but a small part of herself was afraid he wouldn’t want her to. 

“Clearly,” Professor Solo scoffed in return, eyes still latched on the door.

She furrowed her brow, insulted that he would brush her off so quickly. Rey pulled herself up from the ground, blood running hot down her shins, before staring up at him, chin jutted out and defiant.

“Everything was going just fine before you showed up here!” She shouted, and the man spun on his heel to look down at her.

What she saw was not what she expected. There was no anger left in him. No hard-lined jaw or white knuckled grip at his sides. Instead, he dragged his eyes down the length of her, taking in her scuffed up legs, and the bruise already starting to form on her bicep. There was a softness swimming around in his amber eyes—which appeared almost golden in the low evening sun. He was _worried_ about her. His fingers twitched at his side as if he were considering reaching out, pulling her in close, and never letting go.

“I don’t know what brought me here, Rey. I don’t know why I saw that horrible man grab you and throw you out on the street like trash. But I can’t stand for it,” Professor Solo’s voice was breathy, as if his thoughts were really somewhere far away. “I won’t. I’m sure you’re a capable girl. You’ve survived on your own well enough so far—but that,” he stopped for a moment, as if unsure if he should continue, “that doesn’t mean you have to be. Alone, I mean.”

*

Ben wasn’t sure exactly what it was that compelled him to sit down next to her on the curb. The two didn’t touch, didn’t move, but there was barely a breath of space between them, at that seemed at least, to him, to count for something.

He had offered her a ride home, but she had quietly declined. Instead, Ben had scrambled to pull some napkins out of his glove box and handed them to her so she could dab at the blood on her shins. Rey had told him she’d rather wait for her foster mother to pick her up. He should have left, then. Should have gone right then when he had the chance. Instead, he had decided to stay and wait with her. His heart still stutter-stepping in his chest from the image of her bloodied and bruised. When he found his voice again, it was a small, curious thing.

“Why are you 18? If you’re only just a senior—shouldn’t that mean—” the rest of the sentence came out in a noncommittal mumble, barely louder than the low rumble of passing cars.

“I—I was a foster kid, ya know? My um, my parents left me when home alone when I was young—and it had been a while, before anyone found me,” her voice came out a little unsteady, but unguarded. It was as if she knew that this story was a part of herself, her history, whether she would rather forget it or not. Ben watched as she kicked a pebble with the toe of her beat up white tennis shoes. “It was decided that I would be shipped off to the States,” she continued, “apparently I had a long-lost grandfather living over here. But by the paperwork was all finished and I was standing on US soil, he was dead. The whole fiasco meant that I was a year behind in school. Which was kind of a miracle considering how little schooling I actually got at home.” 

Ben nodded slowly, not sure how to respond. He had judged her so quickly that first day, and yet she continued to surprise him.

“What about you, Professor Solo?” Rey asked, turning to look over at him, “what’s your story?” 

He paused for a moment, certain that he would regret this later, before speaking, “I think—I think it’s okay if you call me Ben. At least when it’s just the two of us.”

“Okay,” Rey breathed, her lips a soft, silent ‘o’ shape.

“I don’t know how exciting my story is,” he shrugged. Rey leaned into him slightly so that their elbows knocked, and Ben turned to look at her in surprise.

“It doesn’t need to be exciting if it’s yours,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

“Well—my mother used to be a Senator, when I was younger. You’ve probably—you know who she is. Everyone knows who she is. Leia Organa, CEO of Rebel Corp, all that jazz,” he started, his voice shaking slightly. He hadn’t opened up to someone like this in a very long time. A part of him expected her to interrupt, to ask questions, to pry. Rey only nodded in return, letting him continue. He was grateful for her quiet attention. “My dad was—well a pain in the ass, really. He was a pilot a lot of the time, a criminal the rest, but I looked up to him so much. God, for the majority of my childhood I wanted to _be_ him. But I wasn’t—I was an accident. I was never supposed to happen, and neither of them lived the type of life that would make raising a kid like me easy. I had—have—anger issues. I’m sure you’ve noticed. They couldn’t handle me, and the more they brushed me off the more I acted up. I just wanted their attention. I just wanted to be seen by them. I felt so—alone, most of the time. Eventually they decided it would be best to send me off to live with my uncle here, for a while at least. It would be easier, ya know? If I wasn’t in their hair. I think they fought less, when I wasn’t around.” He admitted the last bit quietly, voice laced in self-consciousness. 

“Is that how you know Mr. Dameron?” Rey asked after a moment, “Finn said you were childhood friends.”

“Yeah,” Ben chuckled slightly, “yeah I spent most of my time hiding away at his house when I was a kid. When I was older I—well I had a falling out with my parents, left home for college and didn’t see them again for a long time. I was a lawyer, for a while, before I decided it wasn’t what I wanted. Poe put in a good word for me with the school district, and, well that’s how I got back here, I guess.” He brushed over the large expanse of time he would rather forget. It was as if Ben thought dancing around the subject would keep the truth from ever touching her. He wanted to protect her from that part of himself.

“Ben?” Rey started, turning to look at him closely, “you don’t have to be alone either, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, kicking at a small rock at his feet. Just then a beat up Toyota pulled up across the street, and a small, wrinkled woman climbed out. She was wearing thick, coke bottle glasses, and Ben immediately knew who she was.

“Ben Solo!” Maz crooned, sauntering across the street toward them. Rey flashed the both of them a confused look, and Ben seemed to almost sag in relief knowing that someone he could trust was taking care of Rey.

“She’s an old friend of my father’s,” Ben explained quickly, before flashing the woman a lame smile, “Hi Maz.”

“I had my suspicions, boy,” Maz smiled, walking up close so that she was eye level with Ben from where he was still sitting on the ground. He thought for a moment that the woman was going to clutch at his cheeks like she did when he was a child.

“Suspicions?” He echoed.

“Well, when Rey came home with that flower garden on her forearm, I knew what had happened. She didn’t tell me who, but I figured it was you,” Maz said simply, still close enough that Ben could feel the heat of her breath on his face.

“I still don’t understand,” Ben started at the same time that Rey broke in with her own questions.

“What do you mean you knew it was him?”

“Child, I told you. Sometimes you see the same eyes in different people. I knew I could see this boy’s eyes in you, just like I recognize you in him,” Maz told Rey, shifting her focus over to the girl. “Though I wish it could have gone without taking your pretty face like that,” she commented, eyes shifting back over to Ben. “Too many lifetimes,” she sighed, rocking back on her heels. The woman offered no further explanation.

Ben looked down at his hands, and the peak of his mark curling down his fingertips. He had met Maz multiple times as a child, and she had always spouted stories about fate, about reincarnation, but Ben had never really paid them much mind. Now though, after everything that had happened, he began to think maybe she was right.

“Well, I’ve enjoyed this little reunion, but I really should be getting home,” Ben started, pushing himself back up to his feet. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, and the sky was quickly going dark at the edges, as if the atmosphere was pooling with ink. “I’ll help get Rey into the car, and they she can get cleaned up and get some rest.”

Rey looked for a moment like she was going to protest his assistance, but her face shifted when he held out a hand toward her. She stared at it, for a second, the uncertainty swirling in her eyes, before taking his hand with her own. He pulled her up off of the ground toward him and looped an arm around her waist to help her across the street. Once Ben had tucked her into the passenger seat, he glanced down at her in the chair. Rey’s buns were messy, hair falling out in large strands, but they seemed to frame her face perfectly. She was young, so so young, and his heart ached at the thought, but there was also a strength to her that someone her age should never have. Rey gazed up at him with her wide, sea grass eyes, and he could see the freckles dotting her cheeks like the stars just then peeking into the sky.

Ben felt as if something had changed today. He had stepped past a line he could never return to. He had gotten to know her, and in return, he had let Rey see a piece of himself, as well. A small, quiet part of Ben pushed him to bend down and press his lips to the crown of her head. When Ben pulled away, Rey’s eyebrows were ticked up in confusion, and yet a small, hopeful smile played on her lips.

“Goodnight Rey,” he said softly, pulling himself up to his full height.

“Goodnight Ben,” she answered quietly. When the car pulled away, it was just Ben, standing in the night under the streetlights, feeling warmer than he had in decades.

That night he dreamed of two figures, huddled by a fire, reaching out toward each other for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeessssssssssss! 
> 
> Also, if you want the most up to date info on when I'll be posting my next chapter, be sure to check out my tumblr page, soloredeemed. All updates on postings are tagged 'maybe we're from the same star'.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um, just wanted to start this off with an apology. I know it has been nearly a month since I've last posted, but school has been crazy so I honestly just finished this chapter today. I was intending on it being longer, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting anymore. There is a minor character death in this chapter, just as a heads up. Also-I'm not going to promise that the next chapter will be out by next week, but I will say it will probably be out much faster as I already have the skeleton made. Thank you all for being so patient, I really appreciate it.

Time started to slide by after that first night. Communication on the Snoke-Palpatine front was relatively quiet, and Ben allowed himself to relax into the strange—almost friendship—he and Rey had developed. Ben called it a _friendship,_ but he knew, when he looked up at her from his desk, it wasn’t _friendship_ that was churning low in his stomach. It wasn’t _friendship_ that had pulled him down to kiss her forehead. And it certainly wasn’t _friendship_ that had him smiling, actually smiling when she said hi to him in the hall. He felt like a lovesick child when she looked at him. He wanted to hate himself more for it, but something in her eyes made him feel a little lighter, as if the world wasn’t about to open up and swallow him whole.

He started allowing himself to say her name in class, started calling on her when she raised her hand. She started staying after to lean over his desk and ask about his day. Students started to whisper things in the hall, but he didn’t mind. A couple of months went by like that, and life was easier than it had been in a long time. It wasn’t perfect, but it was…nice. Until it all went to shit.

The seasons don’t change in Jakku like they did back home in Coruscant. Where the leaves would turn to fire and ash before they fell from the trees. When a white chill would bite into the air every winter. Ben used to love building leaf piles under the old oak tree in their backyard—before he was sent to live with his Uncle in the desert. Here, there were no fall colors to remind him of the passage of time. Maybe that’s why it came as a surprise when his phone rang in the middle of the night.

“Hello?” Ben answered the phone groggily, he squinted toward the glowing digits of the clock sitting on his bed stand—3:22.

“Ben?” Rey’s voice was breathy, almost like static, over the other line. Soft like a part of her was missing, like she was a ghost in the room instead of on the other side of the city.

“How did you—I never game you my number, did I?” He asked, still tired and confused. 

“No I—I looked you up in the phone book,” she whispered.

“I’m in the phone book?” His voice twinged with surprise, then after a beat, “why do you have a phone book?”

“It was Maz’s I—” Rey cut off suddenly, as if her voice stopped working, and maybe it had. Alarm bells began clanging in the back of Ben’s mind.

“Why are you calling me at three in the morning, Rey,” his voice was steady, firm, but not harshly so.

“I didn’t have anyone else to call—I didn’t know who else to call,” he could hear them now, the tears bubbling out of her, the sharp inhales of breath as the words hammered out of her mouth.

“What happened—Rey,” he stuttered, fear gripping him. Ben couldn’t remember a time he had felt more afraid than now, her words like ice on his heart, “you’re okay, right? Tell me you’re ok.”

“It’s—Maz. She—she’s gone Ben and I didn’t know what to do or who to call and, and—and I found you in the phone book and I know that—that we might never, might never be _that_ but I thought you were starting to be my friend and so I thought—I thought I could call you. I’m, I’m sorry if I woke you up but she—she’s gone and I didn’t know—I didn’t…”

“Rey,” Ben broke in, trying to stop her rambling, “Rey of course you could call me. You can always call me.” He had the urge to say more, to give her more, but it was late and he was a coward.

“Okay,” she breathed, voice barely a whisper. Ben clutched his phone closer to his ear, desperate to hear her.

“What do you need?” He asked, already standing. This was something he could do. He dug through his drawers, searching for a clean t-shirt, and he pulled on a discarded pair of jeans.

“I—I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Rey stammered.

Ben nodded to himself, striding out of his bedroom with a purpose and down the hall. He snatched his keys up off from the kitchen counter. “Who have you called besides me, Rey?”

“No one,” she answered shakily, “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I—”

“It’s okay, that’s fine, Rey. I’m going to come over, alright? We’ll figure it out, okay?” Ben told her, “I just need your address, Rey. Can you do that?”

*

Rey is curled up on the kitchen floor, clutching her phone to her chest when Ben comes hurtling in through the front door. She had thought to unlock it when he told her he was coming, hands shaking as she turned the bolt. He looked stricken, and tired, and a part of her regretted waking him, just for a moment. But she needed him, and he had come, and a part of Rey hated him for how much she needed him in that instant. Except—she couldn’t, not really. Not with him looking at her more distraught than she felt, like he wanted to pick up the pieces of her broken world and put them back together.

Ben was the one who called the ambulance, and the night passed in a blur of flashing lights.

He asked her at some point if she wanted to go to the hospital, but Rey had just shaken her head. She didn’t want the last memory of Maz to be a cold body in the morgue. Ben hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t told her she’d regret it if she didn’t go, just sat next to her on the floor in silence. Rey was grateful for his quiet presence at her side. She woke up the next morning curled up against his side.

Light was streaming in through the window above the sink, and Ben was pretzeled up into a clearly uncomfortable position against the cabinets. As Rey picked herself up from the floor, he stirred. Her head was pounding to the beat of her movements, so she stood and reached for a glass of water she had left on the counter after dinner last night. She took slow sips as she checked her phone. It clattered to the counter when she saw the time.

She nudged Ben with the side of her leg.

“Mmm?” He asked sleepily.

“We’ve got to go, I’m gonna be late to school,” Rey told him.

“Rey,” he sighed, “your foster mother just died, you’re not going to school.”

“I have a math test today! I have to go!” Rey protested, already turning on her heel to shove her homework into her bag. She felt—numb. Rey was certain the reality of last night would come crashing into her at some point. She was sure that eventually she wouldn’t be able to stand the grief of it, but for now, her emotions were little more than a dull throb in the back of her heart, and she had suffered worse.

“Rey,” Ben began, pulling himself up to his full height and looking at her from across the room.

“It’s Friday—I can figure everything out when I get home I just—I have to do this. Going to school is normal. It’s something I can do just—please just let me go to school,” Rey pleaded, her eyes imploring him to just let it go. She saw the moment he gave in, shoulder sagging and eyes going soft.

“At least let me drive you, we’re headed to the same place after all.”

“Okay,” Rey nodded.

She texted Rose on her way to school, telling her everything that had happened—Maz, Ben showing up in the middle of the night, all of it. A part of her felt guilty for not calling her friend sooner, but if Rey was being honest with herself, the only person she could think about calling last night was him. Rey turned in her seat to study him—his black t-shirt was wrinkled from his nap on the floor, and the pair of jeans he was wearing were starting to wear away at the knees. It reminded her of the party, months ago now. She remembered how she had just wanted to be a part of his world, back then. Someone who could see him in a t-shirt and jeans and not think anything of it. Someone who could call him ‘Ben’ and call him in the middle of the night. She was there now, right? Rey had a place in his universe now, didn’t she?

It wasn’t until they were pulling up into the front of the school that Rey realized three very damning things. First—all the rest of the students were about to see Rey get out of Professor Solo’s car. Second—Professor Solo doesn’t look like he went home last night. Third, neither of them look like they got any sleep. She had heard the whispers around the school lately—bets being placed on whether or not the two of them had done it yet. As soon as she stepped foot out of his car, it would be all the evidence needed by the entire student body. The teacher’s parking was a small lot directly out in front of the school near the bus loop, there was no way she would be missed. There was no coming back, and yet—Rey wasn’t afraid. She didn’t care if they looked or talked, she didn’t care what anyone else thought, she knew the truth—and that was enough.

Rey took a deep breath as Ben pulled into the lot.

“Are you sure you want to do this—I can still just take you home,” He offered, turning to face her in his seat.

“I’m sure—and thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there,” Rey told him. It was true, without him, she wasn’t sure where she would be right now. Just a couple months ago, that would be a fact she probably would have hated to admit. It was easier needing someone now—it was easier to need him.

“I can make some calls after school today. Try and get things arranged. I don’t want this to be any harder than it has to be,” he said softly.

She nodded and slid out the door.

*

Poe knocked on the doorframe of Ben’s room, and he turned from where he was sitting at his desk to look up. It was Ben’s second-hour prep, and he was attempting to finish grading last week’s homework assignment.

“Don’t you have a class to be teaching?” Ben said tiredly, turning his attention back to the stack of papers on his desk.

“I put on a movie and left the little demons to their own devices,” Poe informed him, crossing the room and pulling a stray chair up to sit in.

“Ah, so what gives me the honor of your presence,” Ben deadpanned, resisting the urge to chew at the cap of his pen. He needed to focus; he had meant to get the assignment back to students two days ago.

“You tell me. My class came in today in an uproar, each one talking about how Professor Solo drove Rey Johnson to school. I obviously didn’t believe them at first—and like a true investigative journalist I thought it best to hear it from the source—except judging by your attire…” Poe trailed off, Ben glanced up to see the man dragging his eyes up the length of himself.

“It wasn’t like that,” Ben protested, the words coming out in a huff. He sat back in his chair and pushed a large palm through his hair.

“What was it like then?” Poe questioned, appearing for the moment all too smug. Ben didn’t have time for his crap today though. He had to finish grading his stack of assignments so he could go about figuring out how to arrange a funeral for the foster mother of his eighteen-year-old soul mate. _Shit, there had to be a will, didn’t there?_ It was another thing that had to be added to his list. 

“Her foster mother died, last night. She didn’t know what to do so she called me. I drove her to school this morning because she insisted on coming. Honestly, I’m just trying to make it through the day in one piece so I would appreciate it if I could just get this over with,” Ben motioned to the papers in front of him.

Poe nodded slowly, head bobbing in quiet understanding, “look man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If there’s anything I could do to help—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you know,” Ben sighed, rocking forward in his chair to put his head in his hands.

“I guess I’ll—” Poe started awkwardly, standing up from his seat, “I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

*

Rose was equally confused as Ben as to why Rey decided to come to school, but she didn’t push the issue. Rey was grateful for that. Her friend just walked quietly next to her on their way to fourth period. Rey had been saved from most of the comments her classmates had by keeping her head down through the halls, but she was sure that by the time lunch came around, she wouldn’t be able to avoid the questions. Rey didn’t have any good answers either. She sighed and clutched her bag closer, and Rose turned to glance at her. The girl's worry was written into the little lines between her eyebrows.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked quietly.

“I’ll make it,” Rey nodded, following her friend into the room.

Ben looked up when she entered, another silent question of her wellbeing written on his face. It was nice, finally being able to talk to him, to depend on him. It certainly wasn’t something she was used to, wasn’t something she was even sure she wanted half the time, but there was stability in being able to rely on someone. The way he had rushed to her house in the middle of the night was evidence of that. She smiled softly at him, before tucking her head away and finding her seat.

“Long night Professor Solo?” A boy named Beau joked from the first row. His buddies laughed with him.

Ben narrowed his eyes at his desk and stood to his full height, “with the atrocity that was your midterm, I was up all night trying to make sense of your gibberish,” he shot back. The boys quieted immediately. “Now are there any more nagging comments anyone would like to share with the class, or can I get on with my job?”

The room remained silent, but Ben’s gaze was back to her now. Rey mouthed thank you, and when he nodded sharply before turning on his heel to write up on the whiteboard, she knew that the motion was intended for her.

After class, Ben called her up to the front of the room. There were some giggles as kids left, but one hard look from Ben and they silenced. Rose stood by for a moment to see if Rey would be okay.

“Go on without me Rose, wouldn’t want you to get stuck at the end of the lunch line,” Rey told her.

Rose nodded in mock seriousness, “wouldn’t want to have that would we.”

Ben waited for the last few students to leave the room before he spoke.

“I can drive you home again,” he started rubbing at the back of his bare right arm with his left hand. She studied the thick black line there, more visible than it was in his usual work attire. Rey liked the look of it, how it entwined him.

“Okay,” she said softly.

“I figure that way I can help figure out some of the—tricky stuff. At lunch I’m going to see what I can do about acquiring the will—and you’ve, well you’ve aged out of the system at this point, so I don’t think we’d need to contact anyone in the State about it but—” He paused for a moment, studying her face. It was as if he could read her. The fact made Rey a little uneasy. “But ah—that’s, we can talk about all that later. I just want you to know, I’m handling it. I’ve got it covered. You don’t have to worry, alright?”

“Alright,” Rey agreed, shifting from one foot to the next.

“Just um, meet me here after your last class and we can head out to my car, okay?” He offered.

“Okay.”

It was strange for Rey, knowing that it wouldn’t be Maz pulling up in her clunky old car to pick her up from school. That she wouldn’t turn in her seat and ask how Rey’s math test had gone. That she wouldn’t have already made a fresh batch of cookies ready to celebrate her success or mourn her failure when they finally made it home. It was strange knowing that what had once been the majority of her world had suddenly disappeared, and that she didn’t feel—empty. The days after Rey’s parents left, it had been as if the entire world had collapsed beneath her. She had nothing—no one. But now—as Rey walked down the hall toward the cafeteria, her mind turned toward the huffing, mess of a man that was Ben Solo. She had him now—and even though it would be hard for a while, it was enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is still short, but it's much faster than the last! Because the last couple chapters have been shorter, I have increased the chapter count. Let me know if you prefer quicker updates but shorter chapters, or longer chapters but slower updates, because if there is a clear preference either direction I might be able to accommodate all of you. Thank you so much for sticking with this story! We get to meet Luke in this chapter, and things are definitely moving forward, so that's good :)

Ben had never arranged a funeral before, didn’t have any experience in the matter actually, but one thing he was good at was the law. He sorted the will out first. Maz, unsurprisingly, with no living family to account for, left the house, the car, everything to Rey. There wasn’t much in the way of money, but she would at least be kept from being kicked out into the street. Rey had been surprised to learn of it, actually, and she had teared up at the revelation, but didn’t let herself cry. For as strong of a girl Rey was, Ben wasn’t sure he would ever see her cry like she did the night she had called him. He was grateful for it, if only because the thought of her in tears twisted his heart and made him feel as if his world had tilted off its axis. Ben wasn’t good at crying girls. He could rarely handle his own emotions, much less someone else’s. He didn’t want her to feel the need to hold it all in, though. Ben knew all too well what kind of trouble that could lead to. He wasn’t sure how to tell her that though, of course.

Ben was sitting at Rey’s kitchen table on Saturday, staring at a stack of papers, when she walked in behind him.

“How do we go about—about burying her?” Rey asked quietly, voice shaking. Rey had amazed Ben throughout the entirety of this mess with her strength, it was almost relieving to see her show a little weakness. She needed to grieve.

“Well,” Ben sighed, pushing a hand through his hair and picking up one of the sheets before him, “it looks like she has a plot all set in the cemetery in town. We just need to do the easy stuff. Pick out a casket, send out funeral notices, contact her friends—” he trailed off, the list still growing in his head.

“That doesn’t sound like the easy stuff,” Rey acknowledged, sliding into the chair across from him.

“No, you’re right, it doesn’t. I don’t—I’ve never had to do something like this before. I think I might need some help,” Ben said tiredly. He pushed one of his large hands through his mess of hair.

“Help, from who?” Rey asked, quirking up a curious brow.

Ben groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I have an uncle in town—he ah, I imagine he was in charge of getting my grandfather’s funeral together back before I was born. The man wasn’t—well liked by the family, and Luke would be the only one who would have put the effort in.”

“An uncle in town? If you thought he could help, why hadn’t you already called him?” Rey questioned. Ben stared at the way her nose scrunched with her words, for a moment transfixed by the sight of her.

“Because I haven’t spoken to him in over a decade, probably,” he sighed tiredly, “If I could have had it my way, it would have been at least another one before I even considered it,” Ben mumbled. He felt like banging his head into the table. The last thing he wanted was to have to ask Luke for help, but he was lost in all of this, and the man—well he could be their only hope. Ben grimaced at the thought.

Rey sat quietly next to him for a moment, contemplating. He could see the gears turning in her mind, as if deciding to phrase her next question, “why do you have an uncle in town you don’t speak to? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not—if you don’t want to I just want to understand you,” she motioned her hand up and down as if to encompass the idea of him, “I guess.”

“Well I guess if you’ll be meeting him, you should at least be prepared,” Ben laughed hollowly. “My parents—I told you how my parents sent me off to live with my uncle here in town. He’s a—well a nut job basically, a hermit or a hippie or whatever you want to call him. Left his job at thirty because he had reached ‘fulfilment.’ Certainly not a father figure by any means. My parents thought he could help me find _balance,_ whatever that meant. Except Luke was just as out of his element as they were when it came to me. In the end he—well he said the kind of stuff you can’t take back, especially not when you say it to a child. I had looked up to him for a while, ya know? Though I could be like him if I tried, and when he said that stuff to me, it was as if he told me to stop trying. I got mad, stormed out, slept at Poe’s house for a week until my parents let me come home. The damage was done by then though. I fell off the deep end after that and—and I did a lot of shit I wish I could take back.”

“Wow that’s, I’m sorry,” Rey whispered, her fingers twitched on the table in front of her, as if she was itching to reach out and take his own hand into hers, “and thanks. Obviously talking to him is going to be hard for you. So I appreciate it, you helping me like this.”

Ben wanted to tell her a lot of things then. How she seemed like the only person who ever really saw him. How he would do anything if it would make her smile. How a part of him thought he might legitimately kill a man if it meant keeping her safe. But these things scared him more than just about anything. He couldn’t tell her what she meant to him without saying too much. Instead he just said, “anything.” The word fell from his mouth a weighty thing, and it settled into the crevasses of silence between them. Ben hoped Rey knew what he meant, everything he tried to say in a single word.

“It’s going to be okay, you know?” Rey said then, and Ben turned to her curiously, tilting his head.

“Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?” He asked, the confusion written in his voice.

“I know. It’s just, it doesn’t seem like anyone’s ever said that for you,” Rey admitted softly. Her fingers inched across the table towards his, and he didn’t pull away when they met his own.

*

The knock on the door came a little after noon on Sunday. Rey noticed how Ben visibly stiffened at the sound before crossing the length of the living room to open the front door. Apparently Luke had been some what of a legend in his own right before moving to the dust hole of Jakku to disappear. A lawyer like Ben before he turned to teaching. A prosecutor on a variety of big name cases before he decided to settle down in the dirt. Ben didn’t explain much more after that.

Luke was somewhat like what Rey expected based off of what Ben had told her. His hair was shaggy and grey, and he had a long grey beard. The man was also dressed in light colored clothing that hung from his body like robes. It was an interesting fashion choice, to say the least.

“Nephew,” the man said stiffly. Both men seemed clearly uncomfortable with the predicament they found themselves in.

“Luke,” Ben ground out in way of greeting. Neither man moved from the doorway for a long, tense minute.

“You didn’t mention on the phone you had been marked,” Luke said stiltedly, he was cocking his head as if Ben were a curiosity.

“I figured my mother would have mentioned that,” Ben answered sharply. The tension in the room was a palpable thing.

“She did,” the statement dropped like a stone from Luke’s mouth.

“Then I don’t see the point in brining it up now—”

Rey could feel the tempers rising, so she stepped in between the two quickly, separating the men from one another. “I’m Rey,” she greeted Luke tentatively, cutting off Ben quickly and reaching out a hand for Luke to shake.

He smiled at her warmly and clasped her hand in his own, “a pleasure, my dear.” His clear blue eyes sparkled, “welcome to the family.” Ben huffed at her side, and Rey could feel him shift his weight as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Rey hadn’t had a real family since she was young. In the end, Maz tried her best to build Rey her own little family—but being passed from foster home to foster home as a kid was lonely. All Rey had ever wanted was a family—a place to belong. Maybe that’s why she didn’t really understand Luke in that moment, the man smiling at her. She didn’t understand how he could so clearly dislike his nephew and yet treat a complete stranger with any sense of decorum.

“Maz was a good friend of your father’s,” Luke mentioned, shifting his attention back toward Ben, “you could have called him. It’s clear you would much rather I not be here.”

“You know why I didn’t call him,” Ben replied stiffly, as if the words were working themselves slowly through the clench in his jaw, “he didn’t need to be bothered by any of this.”

“He’ll come out for the funeral, you know?” Luke asked casually, but there was a hint of a challenge in his voice that made Rey curious. She knew there had been a falling out with his father, but Ben still hadn’t gone in depth with the details. She knew he would tell her when he was ready, but Luke’s words seemed to stir up something like shame in Ben, his head dropping low at the statement.

“And I’ll be sure to say hi when he does,” Ben told his uncle, before turning hard on his heel and heading over toward the kitchen table, “but he can’t show until there is actually a funeral planned, and at this rate it isn’t happening.”

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Luke mused, falling in step behind the other man.

“I don’t plan to, however I might be able to avoid you for the rest of my life after we’re through with this, and that would make me a very happy man,” Ben shot back angrily.

Luke chuckled darkly at the words, “you are definitely your father’s son, always a little rough around the edges.”

Rey watched the two men closely. Ben’s mood seemed blacker now than ever, even more than when Jessika talked back, or when Ian was caught cheating. She knew Ben was a heated man, always something broiling under the surface, but his image of himself and her opinion of him had never really seen eye to eye until this moment. What would it be like to grow up like that? Always questioned, always challenged? Just a child wanting to break free? Rey imagined it would make someone a living, breathing pressure cooker, just waiting to blow. She slid into the seat next to Ben and grabbed his hand from where it rested on his lap under the table. It was strange, having to comfort him, especially when her entire world was so much more different today than just earlier that week, and yet it made sense when she looped her fingers around him, it made sense when he squeezed hers with his own.

“Let’s get on with it, then,” Ben sighed, already looking like the universe was a few pounds lighter than before.

*

Ben got a call from his mother that Thursday.

“We’ll be in town by Friday—get a place to settle in for the weekend. You said the memorial was on Saturday?” Her voice was more timid that Ben had ever heard it, as if she knew that this reunion wasn’t his choice, and a part of her regretted that. His mother was a strong woman, sure, with strong opinions, but Ben knew she cared for his well-being. He knew Leia wanted him to be happy.

“Yeah, there will be a memorial service at the funeral home a couple blocks from the cemetery. Then we’ll all head over for the burial,” Ben sighed, rubbing at the tension between his eyebrows. School had let out almost an hour before, and Ben had been sitting at his desk ever since, trying but failing to grade his students’ civics tests. His parent’s imminent arrival was looming over Ben like a dark cloud. Not only would he have to see his father, but his parents would meet Rey, and that was something he wasn’t quite prepared for. Ben was sure Luke had already called his mom to give her all of the gritty details, and the thought just soured his mood further.

“Well, I know you’ll be working, so I won’t call you when we get in. But maybe we can make plans for dinner? You’re welcome to bring Rey along,” his mother offed.

“I’ll see how she’s feeling then, and I’ll let you know,” Ben told her, trying to be as noncommittal as possible without sounding rude. The thought of sitting down with his parents for a meal was miserable enough—adding Rey to the mix would make the whole thing into a spectacle.

“Alright then,” Leia trailed off, “I’ll see you sometime this weekend then.”

“Bye mom,” Ben sighed before hanging up. 

He huffed and glanced over at the clock on the wall. He had wanted to swing by and see if Rey needed anything. He tried to go over to Rey’s house every so often to check on her. Ben wasn’t particularly comfortable with the girl living on her own, but Rey had insisted. She had quit her job at the pawn shop a few weeks ago, so she rarely had a reason to be out and about anyways. It gave Ben some comfort that she would be safe. He tried to hold on to that fact as the weekend loomed ever closer.

He stood and shuffled the stack of tests on his desk into his briefcase, before heading out to his car. The drive was second nature to him now, which was strange to think about. It had only been a couple months since they had been marked, and he had spent half of that time avoiding her, trying to stay away, trying to pretend as if she didn’t mean a god damn thing to him. Ben knew now that the truth was unavoidable. It was a secret he tried to keep tucked away in some small, quiet place of himself. Safe from the dark and black, safe from any of the things that made loving her a bad idea. And he did, didn’t he? Love her? He loved the way she smiles. The way her voice turns. The way her eyes look like seagrass in the middle of the desert. The way she looks at him and really sees him. The way she seemed to fill up the empty spaces of himself and make him feel whole again.

“My parents will be in town tomorrow,” Ben told her as he sat down on the ratty old couch in the living room.

He was surprised by her answer of, “will you be okay?”

Ben had told Rey the bare bones of the story—the falling out, how he hadn’t spoken to them for years on end, how he hadn’t seen his father in a long, long time after that. He hadn’t told her the reason why the first time he had gone home in seven years was for Christmas, and how even that was a silent dinner that lasted barely more than an hour and he left straight after. Ben opened and closed his mouth, like a bass out of water.

“I don’t know,” he said, and Ben turned his gaze to look at her curious form, perched on an old armchair across the room, “but it’s you I’m worried about. She was—she was your family after all.”

“I’m used to it,” Rey told him quietly, shifting her eyes to study her fingers. “Most of the people in my life have left at one point or another.”

“Not me, okay?” Ben declared firmly, and his own determination startled him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Rey nodded quietly, and the silence stretched between the two of them for a couple moments.

“She wants you to come to dinner tomorrow. You don’t have to, but I thought I would offer,” Ben said, trying not to appear as stiff as he felt. 

“I think that would be okay,” Rey agreed, “I know you and your parents don’t get along much—but I was wondering, if you were ready—”

“Yeah, I can tell you what happened,” Ben breathed, “if you’re going to meet them you at least deserve to know.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start out by saying, I'm sorry, Please forgive me. It has been forever. I will stop making promises I cannot keep from here on out. That being said, winter break is fast approaching, and I hope to have this story finished by the new year with all of the extra time I will have. This chapter is not very long, but I figured I would post what I have because that was the overwhelming majority opinion last chapter. Thank you all so much for sticking with it, and I hope it's worth it :)

_It’s raining in sheets outside, the sky is flashing and the lightning seems to cut across Ben’s face through the living room window. His mother is crying in the corner, there’s a hole in the wall from where his fist slammed through it, everything looks red. He doesn’t quite remember how it started—who said what—all he knows is the feeling like cotton being stuffed down his throat, and he wants to explode. He was back home on college break, but this place hadn’t been a home to him in a very long time. Maybe that’s what set him off—how his parents seemed to breathe easier now that he was an afterthought staying at school in the big city, now that he was no longer their responsibility._

_Han’s voice cracks like the thunder rolling outside._

_“You will not speak to your mother that way.”_

_Ben doesn’t even remember what he said to her, not really. He thinks its anger, swelling up inside of him, but there’s something unsteady about the feeling, frantic, and as he struggles to inhale Ben realizes that it’s panic. He needs to leave, to escape. His father positions himself in front of the door. Ben thinks he hears his mother sniffling in the corner, and a part of him wonders exactly what he said to make such a formidable woman crumble before himself. Ben makes eye contact with his father as his vision starts to tunnel around the edges._

_“What?” He asks, and he feels slightly drunk, weight shifting from one leg to the next. He spots the glass of Jack his father had given him before dinner sitting mostly full on the end table and knows that the unsteadiness he is experiencing has nothing to do with his blood alcohol content._

_His father’s eyes flash at the question, “you heard me.”_

_Except Ben hadn’t, not really. It feels hot inside, and Ben glances toward the thermostat to see if the heat was set to stifling. He grips at his collar, desperate for air. His father is still standing in front of the door, so Ben shoves him, roughly. He stumbles out the front door and down the steps into the yard. The rain soaks through his clothes almost instantly. He hears his father call for him, but Ben is too busy gasping in panicked breaths to turn and face him._

_“No son of mine will behave like that in my house!” Han yells over the roar of rain and wind._

_“I was never your son, was I? Just a pet you could pawn off to someone else for months at a time,” Ben spits back, awareness coming back to him slowly now that he’s finally able to breathe._

_“You know it was never like that,” Han challenges him, and Ben turns on a heel in the mud of the front yard, pulling himself up to his full height._

_“Tell me how it wasn’t like that. Tell me how you weren’t happier when I was gone. Tell me how life wouldn’t have been easier if I was never born. Go ahead Dad.” Ben waits for a beat, two, and Han doesn’t open his mouth to speak. “You can’t. You can’t because it wouldn’t be true.”_

_“Your mother and I love you,” Han protests, taking a step forward._

_“Well you certainly don’t like me! You clearly don’t want me around!”_

_“Ben.”_

_“Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck this house and fuck Senator Organa. I hate it here. I hate it here and I hate you!” Ben screams, his throat raw with the words._

_“You don’t mean that, you’re upset,” Han says, brow furrowed._

_“I do,” Ben says, calmly, evenly. His voice is so cold that even a part of himself starts to believe the words. He makes a move to leave into the night when his father snatches his wrist._

_“Ben, stop.”_

_Ben doesn’t think, he just winds his arm back and smashes it into the man’s face as hard as he can. He doesn’t realize until after, the white searing pain of his broken fist covered in his father’s blood, what he’s done. He hears his mother scream from where she’s standing in the doorway, and he feels the thud as his father crumples to the ground._

_The rest of the night follows in a blur of flashing lights. An officer pushes him down into the back seat of the cop car, and he sees through the rain-streaked glass his father being loaded up into an ambulance. Ben spends the rest of the night locked up in the county jail, a bag of ice wrapped around his hand. He doesn’t know how his father is, he doesn’t know how badly he was hurt, if the man was even alive. He remembers the sickly give of bone against his fist, though. He can still feel the memory of it pulsing in his hand with each new throb of pain. When he’s let out the next morning, Ben doesn’t go home. His mentor at school, Snoke, offers him the spare bed at his house, and he stays._

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Rey stammered, she wasn’t sure exactly what to say, how to address everything Ben had just unpacked for her. She could see how disgusted he was with himself, after everything—that it was guilt, not really anger that had kept him from going home for so long. Ben bobbed his head slowly in a sort of half-nod. The shame of it is clear on his face, as if he could still see his father’s blood on his knuckles. He didn’t offer any further explanation, and Rey supposed he didn’t need to. She watched quietly as he rubbed at his large hands, as if trying to rid himself from the stain only he could see. It was their soul mark now—winding up his hand and into his wrist. She thought that might mean something.

“I don’t know what it’s like,” she offered quietly, still not sure what to do, what to give him, “I haven’t met them—I don’t know what kind of people they are—but I would hope, I would hope that they could forgive you, Ben.” She paused for a moment, studying the way his eyes shifted in the light. “But a part of me thinks they already have—you just, haven’t forgiven yourself.”

“And why should I?” Ben chuckled bitterly, as if all of it was some cruel joke. “I spent so long thinking I couldn’t go home. So long feeling as if everything Luke thought I was, was confirmed. I was a _monster_ after that night. There was no going back—there isn’t. I don’t think the man could ever look at me the same and I’m—I’m not sure I would want him to.”

“Because you don’t deserve it?” Rey asked quietly. Ben didn’t speak, just nodded in return. “I don’t think that’s true. Anyone can change, Ben. I’m not saying what happened wasn’t your fault. I’m not saying what you did wasn’t wrong, but Ben—everyone fucks up every now and then. Some people fuck up _a lot._ But that doesn’t mean you can’t be forgiven. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be.”

*

Ben straightened his tie in the mirror with shaking hands. He was due to pick up Rey for dinner in ten minutes, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to head for the door. He stared, for a moment frozen by the sight of his own reflection. His face wasn’t his own, anymore. Not really. Ben thought for a moment about what Rey had said to him—that he deserved to be forgiven, that he might not be the horrible thing he had spent so long calling himself. When he had first gotten the soulmate mark, when he watched flowers sprout from Rey’s fingertips and a gash cut through his own, he thought it was the brand of a monster. That it might be confirmation that Ben was just as horrible as he had ever seen himself. But the mark was hers, wasn’t it? The black, slicing line was evidence of her on his skin.

Ben wasn’t quite sure he was ready to toss away the image of himself he had built up for so long, but every time Rey looked at him with that softness in her eyes, he began to wonder if it was possible. Ben swallowed the lump in his throat. The first and only time he had seen his father since that night was fleeting. Ben wasn’t sure he had even met his father’s eyes over dinner. But now—his dad would be seeing him for the first time, seeing his mark for the first time. A small, fearful part of himself hoped that the man wouldn’t look at him any different, that the line wouldn’t be confirmation of his monstrousness, that it might suggest something else instead.

Ben sighed heavily, fingers wandering down the length of his tie and into his pockets, before turning hard on his heel and heading out the door.

*

Rey fidgeted nervously with the end of her yellow sundress, before spreading her hands out flat as she ran her palms across her body in a desperate attempt to flatten out any stubborn wrinkles. Ben’s parents were important people. She didn’t know much about what they were like outside of what she had heard from him, but she knew they had money, status. They were the kind of people who might look her up and down, who might eye the faded color of her best dress and think less of her for it. She came from nothing, and looking at herself in the mirror, Rey was certain Ben’s parents would be able to tell in an instant that she was an imposter. A child with nothing who had hit the lottery when she had won the right to their son.

Rey paused on that thought for a moment, rolling it around in her head in an attempt to consider it closer. Only a couple stray months prior, and Rey would have still been cursing her luck. That she might have ended up with a man like Ben Solo— _Professor Solo._ What had she thought of him, that first day? What had she expected of him? The man she knew now was nothing like the silhouette of him that she had built up in her mind. Rey smiled softly to herself, her nerves cooling slightly at the thought of him, of his constant presence, his dependability. It was as if he saw her, saw right through her fears of going unwanted. She was still just a girl, really. It made her feel childish, what she felt for him. But it was no crush, no simple school-girl butterflies that plagued her. Rey was almost certain that she loved him, wanted him, she just couldn’t be certain that he felt the same. It was obvious the man cared for her. Clear in the way he supported her lately. But Rey was afraid she would always be a kid to the man. That he would always see her as the girl who walked into his Civics class and turned his life on end.

Rey was startled out of her thoughts by a knock at the door.

She grabbed her small purse from the counter and stumbled over to the door.

“You look—” Ben started as she stepped out onto the porch, and Rey’s heart stilled for a moment, unsure if he would send her back into the house to change into something more appropriate, “beautiful.”

Rey felt her face flush red at the words. “Are you sure it’s enough?”

“I’m sure, they’ll love you,” Ben told her, and he sounded certain enough, even as he reached up to push his hair out of his eyes.

Rey laughed nervously, before pulling the door shut behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys! Thank you all so much for the response to last chapter. This one is a bit longer (and hopefully a bit earlier) than the last. I hope you enjoy it :)

The restaurant Ben pulled up to was the kind of place where valet was an expectation and not an option. The kind of place that Ben knew his mother would insist on picking up the bill, no matter how many digits were attached to it. The kind of place that would have Rey squirming in her seat all night and straightening the invisible wrinkles out of her dress. Ben sighed heavily but parked the car under the burgundy awning anyways. He turned to look at Rey sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her, trying to implore the girl to look him in the eyes. Rey nodded shortly and didn’t meet his gaze. “My parents have far too much money to know what to do with, they probably don’t even realize that this is ten steps over the top—well, my dad does, but he would never tell my mother that.”

Rey feigned a smile and Ben deflated slightly. The valet stepped up to the window, ready to hand him his ticket and take the keys, but Ben ignored the young man’s presence.

“I promise you, it’s going to be alright,” he repeated.

“Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?” Rey asked softly, “considering everything?”

There was a click of the door handle as the valet tried to guide them out of the car to avoid a line. Ben shot the man a glare through his window.

“Only if you want to,” Ben chuckled lightly. In truth, his own nerves were buzzing like live wires under his skin, but telling Rey that probably wouldn’t help to lighten the mood. “My mother will try to chat you up the most, but my father—” Ben stumbled over his words, “my father will like you best. You won’t even have to try to charm him.”

Rey seemed to relax slightly at that, so he sat in silence for a few moments longer.

“Are you ready?” He asked after she had taken a few deep breaths. She nodded and he pushed himself out of the car. The valet stumbled back slightly at the sudden movement. Ben handed the man his keys and took the ticket in return, before striding over to the other side of the car to open the door for Rey. She looked almost startled at the sight of him holding out a hand to her. His eyes went soft at her wide gaze. “It’s only right at a place like this,” Ben told her. She took his hand and stepped up out of the car. 

Ben tried to ignore the speed of his own beating heart, the way the thing seemed to trip over inside of his chest, as he stepped into the restaurant. The place was dimly lit, with tables far too small to seem practical. He could feel the way Rey’s fingers dug into the fabric of his suit jacket, and Ben had the urge to grab onto something too. He swallowed hard, giving the place a quick scan with his eyes before turning to the hostess. If the difference in their ages were too apparent, the girl didn’t seem to notice, barely glancing up at the pair of them.

“Reservation?” She asked, her tone bored.

“It should be under Organa-Solo. I believe they are already here?” Ben informed the girl, who looked over her notes briefly before nodding.

“Yes, it appears they are, right this way.” She led Ben and Rey toward the back of the restaurant. It was the type of location his mother always seemed to prefer, quiet and secluded. Enough out of the way as to avoid any unwanted attention. As they rounded the next corner, Ben tensed.

Ben was unsure if the seating arrangement had been planned, but his mother sat facing the corridor, and she smiled brightly upon their approach. Ben’s father, on the other hand, was angled with his back slightly toward them, and the man didn’t turn even as Leia’s expression brightened. Ben wasn’t sure how he’d feel when the man finally turned to meet his eyes, how the world might shift on it’s axis, how the shame he had for so long pushed down inside of himself might climb like bile up his throat.

*

Rey could feel the moment Ben saw his father. The instant his body stiffened. In that moment, she felt a little guilty, as if her minor fears of whether or not his family liked her, if she was good enough, were too mundane a thing to worry about in his presence, when Ben so clearly needed her support more now than ever. She slid her hand down the length of his arm and squeezed his hand in reassurance. Ben exhaled at the motion, and Rey comforted herself with the idea that she had helped him, even just in the slightest. She straightened her dress again, before taking a deep breath and setting her shoulders back.

Ben led her toward the table, and his parents stood to greet them. His mother stepped forward first. She was an elegant looking woman wearing a deep blue, floor-length, long sleeved dress and a large silver necklace. Her hair was done up in fancy braids and pinned to the back of her head. She smiled warmly and reached out a hand to Rey.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Ben’s mother said, grasping Rey’s hand with her own, “I’m Leia.”

Rey nodded quietly, “It is nice to meet you too.”

“I can only wish it was under better circumstances,” she said solemnly. Rey bobbed her head in agreement but didn’t respond.

“Mother,” Ben said, stepping forward. He hugged the woman awkwardly, folding his height in half to wrap his arms around her torso.

The man Rey assumed could only be Ben’s father stood uncomfortably off to the side. He was dressed in a beige suit jacket and slacks—certainly not as fancy as his wife. He didn’t seem as at ease as the woman either. He shifted his weight from foot to foot in a way that seemed shockingly similar to his son, but his face was plastered in a cocky smile that seemed to give an air of confidence in spite of the man’s quiet fidgeting.

“God, how did you get so unlucky?” The man chuckled, and for a moment, the air was stripped from Rey’s lungs. Of course this is how Ben’s family would see her. As a burden. A child. Rey resisted the urge to sink into the floor. “I mean, getting shackled to that guy for all eternity?” Ben’s father cocked an eyebrow at Rey. She sighed immediately, thankful that it was a joke and not some reflection of her character. “I’m Han,” he finished quickly, holding out a hand for her to shake.

“Funny,” Ben muttered under his breath. The man seemed more like a child in this moment than any other time Rey had been in his presence. All of his usual confidence was gone. All of his usual tight-lipped coolness, and all of the mysterious suaveness that he seemed to exude every spare chance he had, melted away. He was a son here. A nervous, unsure son. His shoulders were tucked up toward his ears and his hands had found the time to shove themselves deep into his pockets. Ben stood in front of his father cautiously, not making a move to embrace him.

“Hey Ben,” his dad whispered, and there was a wistfulness in the man’s eyes. As if he never really believed he would get this chance.

“Dad,” Ben breathed in return, not quite meeting his father’s eyes.

“It’s good to see you,” Han offered, bringing out a hand to clap his son on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Ben replied shakily.

“Looks like she gave you quite the mark,” his father remarked, pulling his hand up to ghost across the line cutting down Ben’s face.

It was an intimate enough moment that Rey looked away. _Look at the one he gave me,_ Rey wanted to tell the man. _Look at the flower garden he seared into my skin. Look at how beautiful it is._ Instead, Rey pulled the light sweater she wore over her dress a little closer to her body.

“It certainly was surprising,” Ben told his father after a moment, turning his attention to Rey again. His deep, amber eyes said something that she couldn’t quite read, but it made her heart twist.

A beat of silence passed between the group before they all took their seats. Neither man moved to apologize to the other, and Rey supposed that was always how it was going to turn out. Just their being in each other’s presence was signal enough of forgiveness. The awkwardness that had been there before faded into quiet and comfortable dinner conversation.

Rey picked up the menu set before her, and nearly dropped the thing when she spotted the prices—glaring, whole number figures that started in double digits and only climbed from there.

She felt Ben’s hot breath on her ear, “ignore the prices, just get what you want.”

Rey gulped and nodded, trying to focus on the delicious descriptions instead of what her order would do to the bill.

“So Rey,” Ben’s mother started, “any plans for college?”

“Oh um-“ Rey began, glancing up from her menu, “well I would like to go for mechanical engineering—but that’s, it’s expensive. I applied to a couple places. So, I guess it depends on the financial aid packages,” Rey finished with a shrug.

“Oh dear, you won’t have to worry about tuition anymore, we’ll cover it,” Leia declared with a wave of her hand.

Rey’s brows shot up, “I don’t—I couldn’t possibly,” she stuttered.

Ben’s voice overpowered hers then, “don’t overwhelm her this early. I’m sure that’s a conversation you could have with her later.” Ben didn’t move to deny the gift, however. It gave Rey hope that the man saw a future, any sort of future, with her in it.

“Mechanical engineering, eh?” Han said with a smirk, “I’m a bit of a mechanic myself.”

“It’s not the same,” Ben grumbled from his seat. Rey chuckled lightly at his sullen appearance. It was nice—being here. To have people who treated her like family, even upon first meeting.

“It’s not _not_ the same,” his father pointed out with a cock to his head.

Ben huffed in mock annoyance and Rey saw his mother smile softly at the exchange.

“So, Rey, tell me, because my son sure won’t. How did it all go down?” Han asked.

Rey’s eyes widened a fraction, “the mark, you mean?”

Han nodded in confirmation.

“Well he—he confiscated my phone during class,” Rey started, a little unsure how to begin. It wasn’t ever a story she had to explain before.

“Mhmm,” the man prompted.

“And then—well,” Rey motioned around with her hands as if to signify _things_ had happened, “and he stared at me, and I stared at him, and then—I ran away.”

Han let out a hearty laugh at that, “like father like son, eh? It’s just like when I met Ben’s mother. She was only 19 at the time, and I was—well I was just about hitting 30. To say she was surprised was an understatement.”

This wasn’t something Ben had ever really talked to her about—his parents being soulmates, soulmates under circumstances so much like their own. It comforted her, knowing that she wasn’t alone in this experience. That it could—clearly—work out.

“But it’s quite a mark, isn’t it?” Leia hummed, “one of the largest I’ve ever seen.” There was a suggestion in the edge of her voice.

“Mom,” Ben warned.

“It’s just, well you know what they say about the marks,” she continued.

“It’s just a story, mom. It doesn’t—it’s not scientific fact,” he protested again. Rey knew what the woman was referring to, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment by breaking in quite yet.

“Science? _Love_ isn’t a science, Ben. Your father and I are clear enough evidence of that,” his mother joked, “besides, there have been plenty of indications that reincarnation, across this dimension or others, is possible.”

“They’re just stories,” Ben huffed, shaking his head dismissively.

“Maz used to say the same thing,” Rey said quietly, tugging at the edge of the tablecloth, “the larger the mark, the more lives you’ve lived together. The more universes where you were meant to be.” She was nervous that Ben might take it the wrong way—or, well the right way really. But that he would be scared off by what she was trying to say. She dragged her eyes over to his curiously.

He was gazing at her again with the same, confusing look as earlier.

“Oh,” he breathed, the word falling from his mouth quietly.

Ben’s mother cast a knowing look between them and smiled.

*

Dinner went on relatively easy after that. The table got their meals and ate over quiet conversation. Ben’s mother asked Rey more questions about her life—some that Ben had never even thought to ask. Han through in some teasing remarks. It wasn’t what Ben would have expected, but it was… _nice._ The night was winding down, and the group was about to leave when his mother offered for them to spend Christmas at the house in Coruscant.

“Rey, dear. I would be honored if you came with Ben to Christmas.”

Ben held his breath for her answer, unsure that she would actually accept.

“I would—well if it wasn’t too much trouble. I think that would be nice,” Rey answered with a smile. Ben found himself smiling too at her words.

They said their goodbyes to each other and stood up from the table. As Han tried to lay a couple final jokes onto Rey, Ben pulled his mother aside.

“I didn’t want to tell you before, because I didn’t want to scare you,” he began in a low voice, “but a little while ago I got an email from the firm.”

“S&P?” His mother whispered back. She seemed to realize the weight of what he was saying before he had even said it.

“Yes. It was—vague, but threatening. I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t anything explicit. I thought, maybe they were just trying to get under my skin.”

“But?”

“But this morning I got another one.”

“Ben,” his mother hissed, “you should have told me sooner. I could have gotten people on it.”

“I didn’t think—I hoped that it wouldn’t become a problem. For a while, it wasn’t. Just Palpatine’s usual scare tactics. But this morning—it said, ‘see you tomorrow.’”

“The funeral?” She asked. Ben shifted his eyes over to where Rey was laughing with his father a few paces away. He nodded as imperceptibly as he could. “Whatever happens, I’ll handle it,” her voice shifted then, into something brighter, “alright, well we ought to be heading off to bed.”

Rey turned at the announcement and stepped back toward Ben. He led her back out to the car. Despite the happy night, he still felt uneasy about tomorrow. Perhaps it was that stress, that absentmindedness that led him to kiss her hand after guiding her into the car. It felt like it should be considered a moment of weakness, a slip up in his greater plan to remain as distanced from her as he could bear, for as long as possible. But Ben couldn’t blame it on the night when Rey fell asleep in the passenger seat and he looped his arms underneath her legs and behind her neck to carry her inside. He couldn’t blame it on the stress when he laid her down in her own bed and pressed a gentle kiss into her forehead. Watching her sleep, seeing her truly at ease for the first time all week, well Ben wasn’t sure he wanted to excuse the moment away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long, guys. I have not abandoned this story, it's just been a really busy couple of months for me. I will finish this!

It was raining.

Rey woke up to the dull roar of the downpour outside, the harsh tapping of drops against glass, and chuckled. It hadn’t rained in Jakku for months, and on the day of Maz’s funeral, it was as if the sky split open with it. _Leave it to Maz,_ Rey thought. She felt a slight twinge in her chest at the thought, a deep sadness she knew would take years to fully dissipate into something almost unnoticeable, but the sight of the rain outside made her smile, just a little bit.

She must have fallen asleep in her clothes from yesterday, because when she climbed out of bed her sundress was hanging loosely from her shoulder. Rey slipped it off easily, letting it fall to the floor at her feet. She stepped out of the pile and turned to the row of clothes hanging in her closet. Rey pulled her black dress out, and just stood still for a long moment, staring at herself in the tall, floor length mirror she had propped up against the wall. She clutched the hanger tightly. For some reason, putting on the dress would make it all the more real, and Rey wasn’t sure if she was ready for the finality of it quite yet. She laid the dress back down across the end of her bed, deciding to forgo getting ready quite yet. Instead, Rey slipped on a pair of pajama shorts and an old t-shirt and padded down toward the kitchen in her bare feet in search of a glass of juice. When she rounded the corner, her breath caught in her throat.

There, passed out on her living room couch, was none other than Ben Solo. Rey wasn’t sure why she was so surprised at the sight. They had made plans earlier in the week that he would stick around the night before the funeral so they could drive to the cemetery first thing in the morning. Rey imagined it was more for her benefit than for fear of traffic, and the idea that he might want to be near her had almost made her heart leap at the time. For some reason, though, she still wasn’t quite expecting it—just another thing that wasn’t quite real. But here, now, his too large, sleeping form sprawled out on her too small, ratty sofa was very, very real.

She took one silent step forward almost without thinking. His presence a magnet drawing her in. Rey never got to see him like this, not really. There was something exceedingly _soft_ about Ben in his sleep—his dark hair haloing his face in messy waves, his features relaxed, his body loose. It reminded her of how he looked at her sometimes, when he didn’t think she was looking. It reminded her of how he took her hand the night before, pressing his lips into the skin there as if he was cut out of the pages of _Pride and Prejudice._

Rey took another quiet step, and another, until she was standing right above him. He seemed undisturbed, his chest rising and falling steadily. Maybe that’s what encouraged her to reach forward with her left hand, to barely graze the mark on his face that promised her the world. When all of this began, she hadn’t even been able to hope that he might love her one day—but now, here, standing above him—

Ben’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and Rey lifted her hand away.

He stretched, pulling his arms high above his head, before turning to look at her.

“Good morning,” he offered, his voice rough with sleep, his amber eyes half-open.

Rey turned red at the sound, and suddenly felt self-conscious in her sleep shorts and t-shirt. She went to cross her arms over her chest and step away.

“Morning,” she replied lamely, “did you want anything for breakfast? I was just about to get some juice.” She nodded toward the kitchen.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said casually, unfurling himself and sitting up. Rey adverted her gaze, escaping off toward the fridge.

*

Ben isn’t quite sure why he opened his eyes, why he would move to keep her from touching him. He had stirred from sleep when she had first wandered up to his side, and the feeling of her gaze on him had kept his eyes shut and his breathing even. A part of him had wanted to know what she’d do—if she’d keep staring, if she would come closer, if she was fascinated by the sight of him sleeping, like he seemed to be of her. He hadn’t been expecting to feel her fingers ghost across his skin. For a moment, he relished in the touch. It was intimate, gentle, something he’d longed for so long he had stopped admitting it, had buried it deep into his chest along with all the other hurt. Maybe that’s why he feigned wakefulness. Everything he wanted just had to stay a foot out of reach.

They left for the cemetery an hour later. The rain that had been falling in sheets earlier had slowed to a dull sprinkle under a grey sky, which Ben was thankful for. Rey already seemed understandably miserable and standing soaking wet outside would only serve to worsen her already fragile state. Ben sighed and clutched the wheel a little tighter, the email from yesterday still at the back of his mind. Ben prayed that nothing would come of it, that all of it was some sort of strange scare tactic, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. What did they want from him?

_To ruin you,_ his thoughts taunted him, _to take away everything now that you have something to lose._

The cemetary itself was a small thing out on the outskirts of town with browning grass overgrown around most of the faded granite tombstones. It was the kind of place you buried someone to forget them, and Ben started questioning whether or not he should have shelled out some cash to get Maz buried in a nicer plot near the center of town. Next to him, Rey didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the state of the place. Her gaze was fixed on the ground and her hands flexed at her sides as if she wanted to hold on to. Ben took a deep breath and reached out to snake his fingers around her own. She didn’t look at him, but she let out a shaky breath and squeezed his hand in return.

“It’s going to be alright,” Ben said softly, head tilted down toward her own.

“I know,” Rey answered quietly, “she always said it was just a part of life. Everything that starts must end, everything that ends will come again.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully at that but didn’t say anything in return. Instead, his eyes scanned the small group of people gathered around the open grave a dozen yards ahead. His parents were standing toward the front, head ducked in a respectful silence. There didn’t seem to be a single person that shouldn’t be there, but Ben was still uneasy, still searching, still waiting for the other shoe to drop and his reality to come crumbling down around him. He couldn’t show that here, though. Not with Rey clutching on to him like he was the only thing keeping her standing. He steeled himself and led her toward the grave.

*

The cemetary was exactly as Rey thought it would be—a sort of desolate place. Under the grey sky it seemed to look even more devoid of life. Rey choaked down a sob as she clutched Ben’s hand. She had managed to stay strong throughout the week, to remove herself from the grief that was throbbing under the surface, but now? Here? She was failing. Ben’s grip in her own was her only comfort among the faded tombstones. Rey couldn’t bring herself to look when he walked her up to the casket. A small green standing tent shadowed it from the rain, and the color looked out of place among the black clothes and dead grass. Rey didn’t want to see Maz however she was now. Instead, she wanted to hold on to the memories she had. Rey squeezed her eyes shut as she stood there, head down, and tried to conjure up some other image in her mind.

The first memory that came into her head was from a couple years back. Rey was sitting behind the wheel of Maz’s beat-up car, sucking in air with her foot hard on the break.

_“We don’t have to go fast, in fact, we barely have to go at all,” Maz was saying. She was such a little thing in the passenger seat, but her presence soothed Rey’s fears just the same. “Just lift your foot off the break, and we’ll start to drift forward.”_

_Rey picked up her foot from the pedal, slowly. As soon as the car lurched forward, only slightly, she slammed her foot on the break and threw the car in park._

_“I can’t do it,” she started crying, head in her hands._

_“You can, I know you can. Just take a deep breath. We’re gonna do a circle, just a little circle around the parking lot, and then we can be done,” Maz told her. She placed one of her tanned, wrinkled hands on Rey’s shoulder._

_“Okay,” Rey nodded, sniffing slightly, “okay.”_

Rey wished Maz was here to comfort her now, to place a hand on her shoulder, to tell her it was going to be okay. Instead, she had Ben, a warm presence at her side. Rey inhaled deeply and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“Are you alright?” He asked, leaning to whisper the question quietly to her.

She nodded slightly, tugging at his arm to join the rest of the crowd.

The service continued slowly, each guest saying their goodbyes, before the pastor said a few words. Sometime near the middle of his sermon, Ben slipped away.

*

Ben saw the moment that the head of red hair entered his vision. It was a figure out past the mangled trees near the edge of the cemetary, dressed in a respectful black—though the color wasn’t uncommon for Armitage. Ben slowly snaked his hand out of Rey’s, determined that the man would not interrupt the sermon, before stalking off toward him.

“What are you doing here, Hux?” Ben growled, pulling himself up to his full height and glowering down at the red-haired man. Ben crowded close to the man and was satisfied when he grimaced and took a step back.

“Do you remember a case you worked on a few years back. It wasn’t too high-profile at the time, just some white-collar thing,” Armitage asked simply, looking uninterested, “Jacob Clemont’s case?”

“What is this about, Hux?” Ben hissed instead, ignoring the question. The pastor was still continuing on behind them, but they were at a far enough distance that Ben couldn’t make out the words.

“What was it you got him off on, a technicality? The prosecution’s evidence went missing, didn’t it? Who could have managed that?” The question was a threat, and Ben knew it. He didn’t give the man the satisfaction of a reply. Hux propped himself against a nearby tree, leaning into it with his shoulder before holding out a thin manila folder. “Palpatine wanted to come by and pay respects himself, but in this weather? Certainly not,” the man remarked, glancing distastefully up toward the sky. He wiggled the envelope at Ben slightly, and he snatched it from the man.

“What’s this?” Ben questioned, turning the envelope over. It was unmarked.

“A warning, I suppose,” Hux shrugged, “good luck.” The man sauntered off through the gate and back towards his car.

Ben stared down at the envelope for a minute before opening it. He reached inside and pulled out a large photograph. It was a picture of him, cloaked in night, walking out of the DA’s office with a folder shoved under his arm.

He cursed under his breath. If Palpatine had this, he was well and utterly screwed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a brief apology for how long the last chapter took, this chapter is here very very early. I'm sorry in advance.

Rey was dreaming, but it didn’t feel like a dream, it felt as if she was stuck inside of her own head, looking out through her eyes but unable to do a thing. Ben was standing in front of her in a red room, reaching out his hand. The mark across his face wasn’t a line but a scar. The word _please_ was still hanging from his lips. Rey desperately wanted to go to him, to take his hand, but instead, the Rey that she can’t control shook her head. _Please don’t go this way._

_Which way?_ Rey wanted to ask. The only way that Rey wanted to go was forward, to take a hold of Ben’s outstretched hand. There was a fire of sparks falling from the ceiling, bathing the place in stars, like the sky was falling around them. Rey didn’t understand; she couldn’t understand.

She thought of the figures in the forest, circling in the light, and this felt the same.

The room shifted, and it was raining again, like the day of the funeral. She was by some rocky coastline, and Ben was in front of her, some ways off, perfectly dry even as the rain pooled around his feet.

_Monster._

The word left her lips before she could stop it, and there was a look in Ben’s eyes that didn’t disagree. _Yes,_ he said, _I am._ There was something on his face that looked like regret, behind the threat of it all, behind the way he leaned in close to let the words touch her with his breath.

Rey woke up in a puddle of her own sweat, but it felt like rainwater.

*

At school on Monday, Ben was wound tight.

“How did the funeral go?” Poe asked, falling into step next to Ben.

Ben didn’t respond. His shoulders were hunched up near his ears and his jaw was tense. His gaze was set in what Ben assumed appeared to be a glower, because the kids in front of him in the hall seemed to scatter as he approached. He even swore he heard one whisper, “boy, Solo sure has a stick up his ass this morning.” They were all reading him wrong, though. Years of hiding his emotions made this feeling one of the hardest to decipher—Ben Solo was afraid.

After leaving the funeral, he had told his mother what had happened, but only briefly. If Palpatine had sent Hux to show him the photograph, to threaten him, well, he had probably already turned over the picture and more to the police. Ben was already screwed; he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He tried his best not to let any of this on to Rey, though, who had far enough problems to deal with. She had asked, though, when he wandered back toward the sermon, who the red-haired man had been. Ben had grimly told her “an old colleague,” and his vagueness seemed to be signal enough to drop the issue. She was worried about him, but he didn’t want her to be. There was nothing she could do to fix this.

“That bad, huh?” Poe wondered aloud, bumping into Ben’s arm with his shoulder.

“Worse, actually,” Ben deadpanned, “Armitage Hux was there to send me a message from Palpatine. It wasn’t good.”

“What?” Poe hissed, pulling Ben to the side of the hall, “is it—are you good?”

“I don’t know, Poe,” Ben admitted, shaking his head. For a moment he let the façade slip, a grimace drawing across his features, “I don’t think so—I think—”

“Hi Mr. Dameron, Hi Professor Solo,” a young girl named Beth greeted them as she passed.

“Good morning Beth,” Poe smiled back, turning away from Ben and putting on a casual air that seemed to say _of course we’re fine, why wouldn’t we be fine?_ Ben said nothing. Instead, he leaned back into the wall. Beth glanced at him, her brow drawing in slightly.

Ben waited for the girl to go before he continued. “I think they’re coming for me; I think it’s already in motion.”

“You’re not going to run, are you?” Poe hissed, the smile he had worn falling from his face in an instant.

“Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t have a choice. If I run, I’ll be _more_ guilty,” Ben sighed, pushing his hand through his hair.

“ _Are_ you?” Poe asked, “guilty?”

“I’ve done a lot of shit in my life, Poe,” Ben huffed, avoiding the man’s gaze, “they could have picked half a dozen things to pin on me—swiping evidence from the DA’s office was probably just the most convenient.” He barely remembered the case, really. It was just one of hundreds he had worked on at S&P. It sounded like him, though. When he was young, and proud, and still using the name _Kylo Ren_ , Ben would have done anything to win a case—even if that meant swiping some evidence and getting his man off on a technicality.

“But did you do it?” Poe repeated the question.

Ben stood straight, snapping up to his whole height quickly, before glowering at the man, “yes, Poe, I did it, and now I’m going to go to jail for it.”

Poe nodded but didn’t respond for a long moment. They had drawn the attention of a few wandering eyes in the hall, and Ben shrunk back to avoid their glances.

“I don’t—” Poe started, voice unsure, “I don’t know what to say, man.”

“I know,” Ben breathed, the fight deflating out of him, “I know,” he said, after a long silence, “just, look after her for me, okay?”

***

They came for him in second period.

***

Rey doesn’t have many memories of her parents. The whole of her childhood was more of a vague fog, patchy in spots, than any actual cohesive memories. Her first caseworker had said that was common with victims of trauma—that was back when they were still trying to figure out what to do with her after being shipped off to the states to live with a dead man. With what she did remember, Rey was sometimes happy that she was allowed to forget the worse bits. What hurt was that the good stuff faded too.

She doesn’t remember much, but she does remember one Christmas. She must have been five or six at the time. It was one of the only years they could ever afford a tree. Her father had dragged it home one day, a scraggly, sparse looking thing, and her mother handed her pieces of string and popcorn to dress it with. To Rey, it was the prettiest thing she had ever seen. There were presents under the tree that year. It was the happiest Rey could remember being for a long time after that.

When she thought about her childhood, this memory stuck out the brightest, as if it was lit aglow by the colored lights hanging from houses across the street. Its warmth was such a stark contrast to how Rey feels when she thinks of the day they left her alone, the day they didn’t come back—how the world felt like it had cracked in two and a hole had opened up beneath her to swallow her whole.

For a brief, futile moment that morning, Rey had imagined what it would be like, spending Christmas with Ben this year. She and Maz had had Christmas, of course, but money was usually tight, so Maz didn’t splurge on a fresh spruce every year. Instead, she dragged up an old plastic tree from the basement. It had always been enough for Rey. She couldn’t help but think about the large, fresh pine that the Solo’s would have. She could already see the sparkling lights and the warm fire. She could picture Ben pouting in the holiday sweater his mother had made him wear for the family photo—how they would ask her to join for the picture and she would get to stand next to Ben. Just the thought of what could be had warmed her as much as the memory of her mother, smiling at her as she decorated the tree.

And then, as the sound of police boots stalked down the hallway, the world swallowed her whole.

“You have to let me say goodbye,” Ben said. Rey could hear his voice just outside her classroom door, and the words rang through her like the sound of a bullet through glass.

The cops hadn’t moved to open the door, but Rey had. She ignored the sound of her teacher asking her to take her seat. She ignored the dull roar in her ears. All she had was the look on Ben’s face when she appeared in the doorway. It reminded her of the him in her dream—the _please_ , the _monster_ , the way he didn’t deny a word of it.

“You have to let me speak to her,” Ben demanded, “she’s my soulmate, you have to let me say goodbye.” The word _goodbye_ twisted something in her stomach.

The cops stepped aside at his words. Rey didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but she knew what was happening. They were taking him away just like everything else in her life was taken away.

He was handcuffed, so Rey pulled him into her own arms. 

“I promise—” he was saying, “I promise.”

“I-“ Rey started, but she couldn’t quite find the words to say it, “I-“

“Not now, Rey. Not here. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. I don’t want this to be—this isn’t going to be it, okay? I’ll—we’ll do this right, okay? Not here, not now. Don’t let this—don’t let this ruin it, okay?” Ben was rambling. She had never heard him sound so distraught, so afraid, and Rey knew that there was no getting out of this. He pulled away, and Rey missed the warmth of his body against hers.

“Where are they taking you—I don’t understand—”

“You will,” he told her, “everything will be explained, I promise. I know, I know you haven’t had much in the way of people coming back, but Rey, I promise you, I will.”

“I- I-“ She stammered. _I love you._

“I know, Rey. I know. Me too,” Ben said quietly.

Rey still had tears streaming down her face when the cops led him away.

She heard the whole story first from the principal. He called her out of class, looked at her with that look that said _I’m sorry,_ but it wasn’t enough. For once in her life, Rey felt more alone than she had when she was nine and her parents left and didn’t come back. She didn’t have Maz, but the promise of Ben had been enough for her, had kept her going. But now— 

Kids walking down the hall when it happened told it like this:

Ben wasn’t even grading papers—how he usually spent his prep hour—when the cops knocked on his classroom door. He looked resigned, like he had been expecting it. He just walked out the door and held out his hands. The cops even had the decency to look confused. They hadn’t called him by his name, though, as they read him his rights and pulled out the handcuffs.

 _They called him Kyle Ben,_ one kid claimed.

Another, Kal, corrected him, _no, it was Kylo Ren._

Rey didn’t know that name, but it sent shivers down her spine just the same, as if she had known it once. Ben had corrected the police, of course. Kal said he had looked visibly upset at the mistake, but not like he didn’t know the name. Beth said she had seen him just that morning, talking to Mr. Dameron in the hall. He had seemed mad, she said.

Rey knew that really meant _afraid._

Ben took the plea deal, didn’t even bother going to trial. A month after he walked out of the school doors and was shoved into the back of a cop car, he was sentenced to five years in a federal prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.


End file.
